What goes on there, with you and the things you are doing?

When I saw you last, the sky was going argyle in the sunset. I never knew it could do that. I bent to tie the shoe threatening to fall from my right foot; when I looked up, you were a shadow. I thought if I called your name, you might come back. But the breeze caught the first half, tossed my voice up and up, leaving the rest of you on my tongue, a meaningless echo. A lover by any other name wouldn’t be you.