BY JORDAN PELC
Copyright is held by the author.
I learned the space to love you
before we met, waking into
window seat dawns on
buses from Montreal through New England
townships, fairy-tale quaint
they vanish when you look away,
covered in snow;
dissolving into earbud ecstasy
on semicircle streets, whose
canal whimsy wanders into sun upon park leaves
that lands in sound like truth inside you,
becomes the only thing to see:
the music that you bring;
the warmth of coffee in
this stillest station scene,
the luxury of a gate with an empty row of seats
as honey thick as time that’s stopped
saying read your book
or even close your eyes and think.
Join me in the window seat
in the silence only one can bring;
be with me as no one was
travelling alone.
***

Jordan Pelc is a physician working in the Division of Hospital Medicine at Sinai Health, and an assistant professor in the Department of Family and Community Medicine in the Temerty Faculty of Medicine at the University of Toronto. His work has appeared in the Intima, the Journal of Palliative Medicine, the Canadian Family Physician, and elsewhere.

Not often a fan of ‘love poems’ but I like this one, not saccharine. The title drew me in. Thanks.