SUMMER WIND

On Toyah's twenty-fourth birthday...


On a sultry June midnight
The crescent Moon shone down
Through open bedroom window
Where I stood in my dressing gown.

I was gazing into the garden,
When a soft wind stirred my hair.
It told me she still thought of me,
And for once this life seemed fair.

I hadn't needed that gentle breeze
To prompt thoughts of her in me,
But still it whispered in the leaves
Of ivy, 'Remember me?'

It rustled louder in the laurel,
Then down the alley-way screamed
In the voice of a young girl calling,
'Mummy, I'm here!' it seemed.

This is nonsense I told myself.
Although comforted, I couldn't abide
This wind's pretence of returning a child
To her grieving mother's side.

'Go and play with the flowers,' I cried,
'Or send ripples through the corn.
Just leave this human heart alone
To mourn a beloved first-born.'

But that wind refused to leave me.
My cheek it gently kissed,
And enveloped me in the delicate scent
Of a baby still desperately missed.

Just then such vivid memories arose -
So clearly her face I could see.
It touched me so, I began to cry.
Then Toyah spoke to me...

'Was I not a part of you
A generation ago?
So how could I not be a part, too,
Of the grief you've been suffering so?

When my tiny body was laid to rest
Beneath that cemetery stone,
I followed you home to be with you
So we'd never be alone!'