Nicorates

upon meditation when outside suggested happenings it knew I would not like, sun-filled spring afternoons piled up like books stacked upon books, teetering, then after attempts, the room went nowhere, but, I may not have done – her voice shouted it both drew me in to another world yet threw me back to the one I had just left . . it was the briefest of journeys, it was the furthest of journeys when that afternoon introduced Nicorates to me; she who cried out this name cried out no more while I was left alone with Nicorates our fleeting glance . . lingering