Every day - a little more loss -
Touch, smell, the sound of your voice...
Words reach out to guide through the characters you created.
The daily rant is missing.
Who now will critique the ills of the world and offer the logical alternatives?
I hold the master craftsman certificate in signs and symbols:
it hangs on my wall, positioned as a snuggle
between your Life Membership and your Accreditation -
Remedial Massage - healing through touch.
The terrible touch of a safety mask -
the kind that entraps and permits utter stillness.
As I stifle the desire to scream at it, I remember
your distraction - your story -
characters to comfort and instruct,
ongoing presence to guide and remind.
I am grateful for the gift,
somewhat daunted you thought ahead.
I try to decide which images to share
and which to hold private and close,
which do we keep to ourselves?
We didn’t just love each other,
we loved life together!
I look at the world today,
much still to do and care about.
The difference is not here, for it goes on,
so they say.
I now see the world
through my jealousy of heaven.
(C) A A Koh-Butler, 2019
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thanks for visiting, I look forward to hearing from you.
When making a comment, please remember this is a site frequented by young people and those who may not be up with your jargon.