Followers

Saturday 25 June 2016

WILL O' THE WISP

A golden band wearing thin,
restless discontent within.
The gloomy city and monotonous years
had led to bickering and crocodile tears.

Longing to escape to Never land,
for I knew he'd never understand
when time runs out on unfulfilled plans
a gloomy fog your future spans.

I asked him, "What is happening to us?"
He replied, "It's only a blip, no fuss!
Go spend some time with old friends
and I'll see you again when summer ends.

You know most couples need time apart
to bring them closer, heart-to-heart."
But love, it appeared, had it's own agenda:
best laid plans et cetera, et cetera...

Then just by co-incidence you were there
taking in the bracing sea air
in a quaint little cottage on cobbled hill.
That Bohemian lifestyle - such a thrill!



Clovelly is now a distant memory:
one forbidden night of rapturous fantasy
in late June, so long ago -
and the searing spark that set us aglow.

It could have turned our lives to steel,
but we were careful not to feel
too much and only rainbows touch.
Yet still that night I relive too much...


Wednesday 15 June 2016

A LIFE

For my daughter Toyah, 14.06.89 - 28.06.89.
In memoriam, with all my love...


This hurt has lingered so long,
re-intensifying with each new day.
The rising of the sun a stark reminder
of what should have been...


The team forms a semi-circle around the bed.
The Paediatrician's smile is jarring, inappropriate
as he tells me she has a mere fifty/fifty chance
of survival.
Am I alone with such agony?
I cannot read
their faces of stone.

The door - I want to run,
to escape harrowing reality,
to throw myself under a train.
The pain is debilitating:
twelve long hours,
all labour long...
then she's carved by a surgeon's scalpel.
Then deep coma...


Two long weeks pass
while I search her face
for signs of life.
But there is nothing:
no movement, no sound
to cling to,
only a ghastly silence.

My precious first-born,
limp like a rag doll.
Beloved dust
slipping through my fingers,
turning to rust.

No time for bonding,
for tender caresses
nor words of love.
In fact, no time for anything.
Just a tiny white coffin
slipping into eternity...


Here in the darkness,
endlessly yearning for the light.
But it never comes - only
another morning and birdsong:
that bittersweet serenade
to a broken heart
and the end of motherhood.