deb y felio

One Night

I lie here beside you listening to the thunder
and remember the conference last week in New Orleans
where I ran into an old dear friend, and we spent
the one free evening dining and drinking
then returning to his room to talk about old times
and our strong desire to reclaim an unclaimed past,
but for better or worse the vows were stronger,
and I told him the promises, as ragged as they were, still meant something,
so we parted again with what-could-have-beens in our suitcases,
and when you broke the reverie just now with your question
what are you thinking,
I lie and say nothing.

deb y felio writes because besides reading, what else is there?