To Henry

 (From Clare to Henry; based on The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger)

 

Henry,

I wait for you,

Even when I'm forlorn by you.

I wait for you,

Even when I'm bereft of you.

 

I watch you slip through the cracks,

I catch you stumbling into the nows,

To places I can't follow,

To presents I can't fathom.

 

When are you in, Henry?

Where are you now?

 

I listen for creaks on the floors, 

I listen for ajarred doors,

The rustling of clothes,

The movements in air.

 

I wait, Henry,

For you to enfold me,

In the scents of flawed time,

From your unruly crusades,

Engulfed and entangled,

To the sense of free will.

 

I will drop down my reddened curls,

From the tallest of towers,

Lighting the untaken paths;

I will become the drops of rain,

That kiss those freckles,

On an unwelcomed summer day;

The greenest of grasses to safe-keep those fleets,

The warmth for your body in the wildest bites of frost.

 

Henry,

My lone traveler,

I wait for you,

For you to grasp the hands of the clock,

That left you unkempt,

And again when the time cracks, 

Voyage through the blemishes of life,

And come find me where we belong.