The poem as I remember it
Is not the poem as he wrote it
Indeed it is a poem about a plant
Whereas I thought it was a poem about a person
I had it in mind that truth
That truth, with belief, were side by side
In those clear moments of experience
Also that love, with beauty, had played their part
I acknowledge, willingly
That this was not chant, nor response
These were not the sounds of a silent
Monastic order; or were they
Was the whole conversation
Not a means of reaching
A point of common ground
A place for both to move on from
The relationship, as I remember it
Is not the one as she lived it
When it was extended periods of doubt
Whereas I thought it was nigh-on certain
