Memory boxing

Collected things
To share
Heaped
Like memories
On sideboards
Awaiting eyes
Alighting

Would fallen leaf
Its twirling stem
Twixt slender fingers
Hide smiles
Seen in eyes
A masquerade
Disguse

Dust whispers
Collecting on cobwebs

To burn
And dance in flames
Yet even there
In fires glow
Of memory
Your smiling kiss
Bestowed
The burning leaf
Would show

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Black ice coats pavements
Sliding through the city streets
Longing for wild snows

Anticipation
Like cutting into meringue
On a Key lime pie

Finding rainbow’s end
Hoping you’d be there waiting
Alas only gold

Dream therapy

I dreamed of you again, yet this time it was not you.

I walked through the ground floor of Queen Margaret’s hospital, a place I havent been for years, talking on the phone.
The line went dead.
Frustrating though it was, it was not a conversation I was engaged with.
I looked out of the ground floor window at the grass.
Why I was there I do not know.

My phone rings
I look down
Your name
Staring back
Hands shake
I answer
Hello?
No sound
Then crackles
Your mother
My heart
Breaks
Is that you
Yes its me
(I get her name wrong as always)
She
I
The line
Or her voice
Cracks
She
I

My heart beating like a drum wrenches me from sleep and I am faced with the realisation that this is not true, that call never came, but you vanished just as completely.

Were I to possess
Your skill at disappearing
I’d use it for good

Did you ever dream
Here where light splits frozen sky
Chilled lips pressing mine

At times found reading
Under gentle shade of trees
Finding there beauty

The fear of losing
Not what we already have
But all that might be

You look wonderful
I open my mouth to speak
“Wow that’s very pink”

—

I’m such a moron sometimes.