MY MELANCHOLY FINGERS
I forget how lonely
I used to be
before I fell
in love with you.
Now my knowing
fingers reach out
to you, but there’s
no one there.
The memory of who
you used to be
can no longer
be touched.
I hug an extra pillow
when I go to sleep,
imagining it’s you
who keeps dancing
to an audience of one
in all my dreams.
Your original
improvisations
would surely have
made you a star
of the Alvin Ailey
Modern Dance Theatre.
Milton