I Know All One Can

It Has Been My Face. It's Got Older Still, Or Course, But Less, Comparatively, Than It Would Otherwise Have Done. It's Scored With Deep, Dry Wrinkles, The Skin Is Cracked. But My Face Hasn't Collapsed, As Some With Fine Feature Have Done. It's Kept The Same Contours, But Its Substance Has Been Laid Waste. I Have A Face Laid Waste.

Their Voices Reach Out Into The Empty Yard, Plunge Deep Into The Hills, Go Right Through The Heart.

Perhaps Someone Will Have Seen Mine, The One I’m Waiting For, Just As I Saw Him, In A Ditch When His Hands Were Making Their Last Appeal And His Eyes No Longer Could See. Someone Who Will Never Know What That Man Was To Me; Someone Whose Name I’ll Never Know.

She Had Lived Her Early Years As Though She Were Waiting For Something She Might, But Never Did, Become.

I've Forgotten The Words With Which To Tell You. I Knew Them Once, But I've Forgotten Them, And Now I'm Talking To You Without Them.