THE GARDEN AT 2AM

 For my late Father, with much love...

Stepping out here into a parallel universe.

My outstretched hands locate an unsettling void

where the cabin should be. At least, it was here -

but now the spikyness of the giant yucca 

is prickling my palms. Familiarity,

I begin to realise, is mostly expectation.

My garden's a foreign language only half understood,

translating indistinct shapes into imaginary monsters:

I ought to know my rose bush, but a shroud

of blurry grey distorts it something menacing.

Only this afternoon it was a mass of yellow blooms

and gradually, now I'm forcing my eyes to adjust to the dark,

I see faint pale orbs appear and then fade -

welcome signposts in this infinite gloom.

And towering above me, the oak tree,

jet black against the moonless sky, many-limbed, half human;

it's gigantic bony claws reaching for me...

old childhood fears once more possess my receptive mind.

Suddenly I need you here beside me

to allay my terror - just as you always did so long ago.

Pulses fear-racing, I call out to you,

firing my earnest entreaty across the unseen veil.

But it's syllables are lost in the mists of time,

are now no more than mere echoes of what once was...

and I miss you.

Oh how I miss you...

HAPPY NEW YEAR  🎉🍾🎈🎁🎇 XXX