​

 

"The First Time Percy Came Back"

by Mary Oliver​

 

The first time Percy came back

he was not sailing on a cloud.

He was loping along the sand as though

he had come a great way.

“Percy,” I cried out, and reached to him—

               those white curls—

but he was unreachable. As music

is present yet you can’t touch it.

“Yes, it’s all different,” he said.

“You’re going to be very surprised.”

But I wasn’t thinking of that. I only

wanted to hold him. “Listen,” he said,

“I miss that too.

And now you’ll be telling stories

               of my coming back

and they won’t be false, and they won’t be true,

but they’ll be real.”

And then, as he used to, he said, “Let’s go!”

And we walked down the beach together.​​​​