“…And I’ll Get Back To You…”

I don’t know why I thought he loved me

Just, perhaps, the way I felt for him

And certainly he never said as much, mtaintaining that

He didn’t show his feelings, or affection

Though he held me tight enough and

Kissing me, you couldn’t tell.

He could be tender: when I hid my face

Against his chest and blurted out

He stroked my hair, regretful

Now it seems to me he had no reply

(While I would kick myself and think,

You fool, you fool).

But there was once, on parting, when

Responding to my usual words, he whispered:

“I adore you too.” I cried

The whole way home, my dream come true;

At last. The odd thing was

That that was when he started getting late

Whenever we met for dates

His phone calls hardly came through and

He would say

I’m sorry, but I’ve been tied up.

In desperation, one 3 a.m. I left a message

With his friend. That if he cared for me

To ring by 5 a.m.

He hasn’t phoned me


It’s 5 a.m.

Perhaps I should have said which day.