Stepping into

the flat this evening,
    something strange happened;

the veranda became a veranda,
    the yellow lamp on the wall

a yellow lamp on the wall,
    the mat on the floor turned red

instead of its present blue,
    the woman who looked up

from the shelf of potted plants -
    now a shelf of mangled bonsai -

became a woman with subtler lines
    underneath her eyes, speaking,

as she had once spoken,
    'Never forget.' I nodded,

as I had always nodded.
    'I won't.' But that was then.