DAHLIAS

Within the dahlias a vision of him
beguiles my senses:
a beloved image flitting from flower to flower
like a butterfly on a summer's day
that I so long to follow.

There are petals on his shoulders
and lodged in his braces.
His eyes scrutinise cottage windows
anxiously seeking my mother's younger face,
and his countenance crushes my heart.

No one can stop him waiting here,
although he is so tired of waiting.
He longs to take her again in his arms,
to escape the bitter loneliness of limbo.
Yet he remains as always.
Always in this eternal moment,
in his army uniform,
all the years between forgotten.

The garden is in full bloom as it was then,
just after the war.
But new people tend it now.
A profound love of dahlias
               has brought us all here
                                 to this surreal intersection,
where all I can do is observe
four strangers having a barbecue...
and share my father's anguish.