I miss the phone calls we used to have –
maybe not regularly – but often enough that we could pick up
from our last conversation and ramble on as though no time had passed.
I miss sending you cards for your birthday, Christmas, St. Patrick’s Day,
and occasionally just to say “Hi” – no answer expected –
but without fail you would phone soon after,
thanking me for the remembrance and I would scold you for wasting money.
Distance was my excuse for not visiting – and you said you understood.
But, I should have made the effort.
Now a visit would only be a formality – a duty-call from a stranger –
with vain attempts to fan some spark of recognition
by mouthing false encouragements and sickly platitudes
and all the time wondering why – why –
why has she forgotten me?
So, I won’t visit now.
~ Ken Gough
