TOMBSTONES

Written on my late Father's birthday...

Bonfire burning in the apple orchard at the day's end
beside the big house bordered by "trees of heaven".
If I could cheat time, I'd return there again
to collect all the windfalls with you
and pack them in a box for the neighbour's pigs.
Then, our task over, you'd tell stories in the glow,
while marshmallows toasted on a fork.
                                                                 Oh such magical days!
Those moments in time, since you've been gone,
return to haunt me often...and with such yearning
to behold just once more your beloved face.
But time has encroached right up to the house
and the orchard has long vanished beneath
an asphalt street and strangers' homes:
tombstones to the memory of us.