A Verse from Cavafy

I searched in vain to find a verse,
From Cavafy, to speed his journey.
I imagine his back,
No doubt sweating underneath his shirt
Against the vinyl covered seat of a
Cairo taxi.

On the way to his dance class,
Unbroken almost fearful silence.

Here his echo still remains,
Tatty cushions tossed around like flotsam
Litter the living room floor,
The scene of our last love-making.

Tender kisses that I still feel on my fingertips,
his sad good bye.