I had known you once…
you were a budding hope
an Echo
that never took?
that let go too soon?
And I had known you twice…
A solid, clear knowing
my life was in the wrong place
at the wrong time
thrice..
when my brother lay dying
did I make the right decision?
and perhaps another
tall, slim, laughing eyes
only the Portuguese have a name…
for mourning things that never were
Saudade
