A face without a nametag,
Waves of memory's ocean
Becomes unruly in vain.
Some faces do not have names.
He surveys its known features,
He knows that he knows it close.
A face he has seen somewhere.
In a bus of public assembly?
In a tube to underworld?
In a road with shadows to whisper?
In a place of toiling sunshine?
In a distant island of blue dream?
In a memory beyond a life?
A face he has seen somewhere.
Closely and within whispers.
His sad finger's grave touch on
The forehead of it lingers.
A touch that defies vagueness
You know you know you know it.
Has he seen it in a mirror?
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Comments: 12
Sometimes husbands and wives look somewhat alike, or grow to look alike.
Fascinating poem!
Nicely done. I like the question at the end, point inward and outward at the same time.