The Look

The eyes were asserting something,
but what I saw
did not
correspond to the words.

What perhaps I saw
was remembrance
or, perhaps, a wish to be remembered
as once she was.

And there was need
to be perceived as someone important
whom I was pleased
once more on this occasion
to see.

It was not passion.
Just, possibly, it was a dare.
Here I am, it said, look at me.
I have become
a mother, a farmer and a teacher.

You would still succumb,
if I wished it.
I do not.
I came because I wanted to tell you:
you were never fun.