any other sunday

when the nights were balmy
standing out on the porch
mild traffic
you played me songs, on the piano
over the telephone

i sobbed when i came back from that week
hearing our voices recorded together
how could i ever recapture that moment?

i lived outdoors.
you looked over, and grinned
and i stuttered inside, when you said you'd take me there.

why is this coming back now?

this is what they call pain,
and regret.
sitting on cold nights, thinking of others elsewhere
when once, i lay
stretched on the sand
listening to the waves and loving you