Hidden Places

Sometimes
Those hidden places like
That old corner on Times Street
Come creeping into the crowded subway
Of my consciousness, and I
Am once again reminded of
times, happy ones, with you
Walking right beside us,
Cracking jokes about the two
Of you, your booming laughter
Floating above the dust, the smog, and
Past the din of the busy city folk,
More pervading than any Arabic
Scent perfuming  the air,
And far more therapeutic.


Those hidden places like
That old corner in Times Street
Are now no more; dumb,
demolished, crumbled bricks lie in the backdrop
Of new, glossy statures-
A perennial reminder of you,
And all our times with you:
Lost but not forgotten,
Destroyed in reality, but
Fortified, once in so often a while
In spirit and memory; intangible
In presence, but omnipresent
In knowledge.

On nights like these,
Those hidden places like
The old corner on Times Street
Come bursting through the patched up folds
Of my unconsciousness,
Just to remind me that there was
Such a happy time once, not so very long ago,
And pretty soon, if I'm good enough,
There shall be such happy times again,
Only more eternal, more real, wherein I,
Like you, shall be happy, loved, cared for
By your side forever more, booming with laughter,
Shouting in glee, drawing excited bubbles of pure happiness
From the inner most recesses of my heart,
Like never before.