Visitation Hour (For Old Lovers)

A memory arose

From the dogeared pages 

Of a book 

Where you had scribbled

Your name 

In cursive hand 

With the letters running loops

Intertwined

Like your fingers used to 

With mine

There is a phone number
Scrawled under
Your name

That I know you don't answer to
Now

And that I can still recall  

With Precision 

Like the paths

I would trace on your back

While we lay on our bed

Naked 

Ruminating about Life, the Universe

And chasing starlights
That are now

Fading

Like this memory 

And I wonder
If we could ever be

Strangers