To a Stranger

Just when I think there aren't any more surprise boxes to open or any little memories that lie in wait for me around a corner, another shows up.  While sorting through a box of random toys that had been left at the Henry's after I moved to Arkansas I came across a little wooden box that I remembered belonged to Kevin.  When I opened it I saw that he had saved all of the notes, letters and cards that I had written him in the years before we were married.  It was a bittersweet discovery, as usual.  I haven't been able to read through them all.  Anyone who knows me, knows I am very wordy!  However, I sifted through the pile and read a few of the notes that caught my eye.  In particular, I noticed a poem that I had copied for him from my favorite poet, Walt Whitman.  It is eerie in the way that it now encapsulates so much of my life, love and memories of being with Kevin.

To A Stranger
Passing stranger! you do not know how longingly I look upon you,
You must be he I was seeking, (it comes to me as of a dream),
I have somewhere surely lived a life of joy with you,
All is recall'd as we flit by each other, fluid, affectionate, chaste, matured,
You grew up with me, were a boy with me,
I ate with you and slept with you, your body has become not yours only
Nor left my body mine only,
You give me the pleasure of your eyes, face, flesh, as we pass,
You take of my face, breast, hands in return,
I am not to speak to you.
I am to think of you when I sit alone or wake at night alone,
I am to wait, I do not doubt I am to meet you again,
I am to see to it that I do not lose you.