Anticipation one evening

I am –

hesitant

anticipating what?

greatness?

an unearthly experience?
for she will be
speaking to me
from a
bygone age
(can you imagine it?
insufferable Edwardian
parties and Dalloway
fair drowning
in it all – )

something extraordinary?

should I expect less
from the one person who I
know understands
more?
(she always does)

mornings shining like
the polished golden cutlery
(in which you can see your
tiny reflection)
and willow-drooping in
grey
rain

and evening fires
with curled-up
spaniels –
loving late
and
philosophising
about moths and such

and when the storms came,
having togetherness
was quite enough…

I can picture you easily,
of course,
such a long face –
no, not sad, really –
intelligent
and pretty brown eyes
(in that colour photo,
which surprised me
so)

so though I am
scared
I must wait no more –

Virginia?

Speak.