A pillow undisturbed

With these tears

I would cleanse your hurt;

with an aching heart

I would purge the pain.

 

The pillow undisturbed proclaims,

with discordant voice,

you are beyond my touch

when I awake from caressing you

in my dreams.

A note is missing from the chord
the melancholy tune
colours the day.

So I touch you with my heart
when fingers cannot reach.
I touch you with my heart
when you are in vision, out of sight.

The pillow undisturbed
lanterns dark separation,
illumines spectred care.

The voice I hear speaks within my head
but not within my ear.
So, tomorrow, in bright promise,
bring us close
and sing of love.

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Still born twin

 

Evening comes.

The cremating sun hides

in tangerine dreams of

mourning  clouds,

that you’ve never seen.

The air is crisp with the skipping of

tantalising breezes

that you’ve never tasted.

I would have shared these things

with you

had you not been swept away

before your first glimpse,

and breath touched life into you.

 

12th night

All that glistered

and shone its baubled light

has been devoured

again.

The cardboard appetite

of attic boxes,

once more satisfied,

returned to quiet hibernation

awaiting another rising star.

The residue of tinsel,

captured in a vacuum of time

for another time,

trapped in tired boxes

showing their age.

The once-glanced cards

await their fate,

the annual cull –

vivisection recycling

or the ignominy

of an orange bin.

This is Christmas now,

wrapped in untidiness

and memories,

trapped in photos

of merry children,

and the workings

of thank you notes.