Of course I do. A December day

some sixty years ago. I loved you,

though I never found the words.

 

We walked home from school

together, hand in gloved hand,

fresh snow in your dark hair.

 

I never found those words, either,

but I haven’t forgotten you once.

Why can’t I recall your name now?

(after an undated, untitled photograph in the project, “Demo Roll,” by Matthew Moore)