Friday, 17 August 2012


Strips of light penetrate green summer leaves
that are still thin like new born children.
The edges of the leaves turn golden; trees,
crowned with sunshine, genuflect – you,  
rays igniting long, brown hair, in floral dress,
red flowers the colour of blood, bare
feet embracing ground, greet me in the garden.

In your tanned arms, a child sleeps;
tiny round mouth, scented milk breath - I ache
to touch soft scalp, to bend close, smell
the head innocent as unfurled sunflowers.

Your eyes of cornflower blue ask me to leave.

Closing the gate, the metal latch clicks, as final
as your eyes, I remember once you carried my
child - decide against that particular path.

Unreasonable tears make driving home difficult.

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