You had been four years in Paradise when I last saw you
Next to me in a restaurant
Occupied with your phone per usual.
You’d forgotten the English you once knew
And couldn’t seem to meet my eyes
As you cannot throw a log onto a dying fire
I couldn’t leap to hug you
Or bend to cry on your shirt
So I reached over to pause what you were watching
(Recitations of The Scripture),
And took your glasses off.
We sat fixed in downward gazes
Loving one another in silence
Until I, in waking, rendered you back to Paradise.