Altar

Summer left me at the altar.
I still can’t stand coming home to an empty house.
But I think of you more and more often,
And I smile when the thought comes.
I don’t know what that means.

But yesterday I found the old flag we used for our “campsites.”
It’s rather ragged, and if I had any patriotism, I’d burn it.
I guess my loyalty to you has always pre-empted that.
The stripes seem to have been foremost a symbol of me and you.

And the stars...
Stars weren’t really your thing, but you’d watch them for my sake
On nights when we’d get the telescope out,
Count the craters in the moon, and then lose interest.
I almost feared the stars.
They herald the end of the day,
Time to pedal homeward and run in the backdoor shouting excuses.

Shouting excuses.
A lot of it’s been like that.
I hope Orion sees through them.