now is a thing which you cannot repeat...

This is something like the start of a poem, which i may never write, but still it's all i've got:

 

Yesterday i wanted to write a poem, about you & me,

But i had not the strength nor the heart to move

It was too lovely & i too weak, as we rested there

And now i've forgotten the words

We were on the bed, it was not made

And the room was still messy

With the ironing board still out & unfolded laundry

But you & i, we rested there, in front of the fan, numbing our ears

with the still, steady, slow rise and fall of our comingled, undisturbed breathing

at last you slept lightly, with your knees tucked into the crook of mine

And i had not a care in the world, but a tearing at my heart

To wrestle away & pin down those carefree words

The ones which were shuffling around, trying to assemble

They were looking for the right combination, or forming a shape

Something like a feather to keep in my pocket

But i could not do it, I could not get away from you there with me

And anyway, i know cause i've tried, but a feather is never a key