I’m ok that you didn’t remember
You were preoccupied
That I reminded you
Twenty-two years had passed
The days into nights into 
more days
of passing through morning meals
Struggles to remember 
what is necessary to discuss
in the same room.
It’s where we’ve landed
Right now, we’re both planted
rain or sun
dew soaked grass
Silent Sundays
The only acknowledgment 
to it being odd is
this poem.
It’s ok that we’re
fine with it.
A relief really.