Pablo Neruda Poem by James McLain

Where you have gone, there I must wait.
The early night has spread it's wing's,
The late dawn.
What is it like, the pain of early separation.
You are as you are,
What once was wise, what is sleep?

Anguish is not, even as smoke reappears.
Speak not of snow, none is here,
The garden is full of such plants, and these plants,
That I grow as you grew to me dear.

He who I am he you knew,
In stark releaf there on the wall, is it I,
But a shadow of you, I once knew.

Moment's I miss as we shed, what we shed,
Sleeping in oil, beneath the hot sun.
You brought me up and you brought me down,
To the sea, when the sand was at it's most moist.
And underfoot the salt from the waves we could taste.

Here where I wait you have gone, six inches apart from
One song,
Of how much it hurt and your gone.