The Only One

I sometimes have to sit and think
Who all they were, and when they were;
A kind of map of who I’ve been
Or GPS, if you prefer —

But there’s a difference with the one,
She always with me, wake or sleep;
I tell myself I’ll move along,
But it’s a promise I can’t keep

And so I go my lying way,
A person seen, but incomplete:
I always have these hidden thoughts,
A waking garden — thick, replete —

It’s strange. I should be wiser now,
But this, at least, spells out no doom:
The only one I can’t forget
Is here, but in

The other room