Children playing games.
Imagination runs wild
With empty boxes.
Children playing games.
Imagination runs wild
With empty boxes.
Smouldering ashes;
Paper turned to grey powder.
Evidence destroyed.
Memories and feelings
All wrapped up in cotton wool
And bubble wrap;
Gently placed inside the box
With polystyrene pieces
And packs of desiccant;
Sealed and marked,
“Do not destroy,”
And archived.
For now, I have no need
Of memories or feelings;
Now that you’ve gone
And left me all alone
To face the bleakness of a future
Filled with sadness,
Filled with tears,
Filled with grief,
And uncertainty
Maybe, some day,
Our great grandchildren
Will look inside
To marvel at the love we shared.
“How quaint that they should be
Together, Oh so long!”
And give us pride of place
Upon their shelves
And mantels.
Or maybe you and I
Will reunite
To open up the box
And let the memories rekindle
The love that bound us
Together, forever;
To set the feelings free
To flood our hearts
And souls.
‘These three remain:
Faith, hope, and love;’
Anchors for this lonely soul
To which I cling with calloused hands
That long to feel
The softness of your cheeks.
Faith, hope, and love
That soon we’ll reunite
In Paradise.
Originally published April 10th, 2014
A few images of Castell Coch, a folly near Cardiff, Wales
Graduation day
Caps and gowns and student loans
“All is vanity”
​Mam, I’m sick, she says
I’m sicker than her, he says
Sibling rivalry
While the arthritic parents
Silently carry the load
Mindless comments hurt.
Yet how many stories do we hear about people who haven’t spoken to each other for years, but they cannot remember why.
Water under the bridge. It’s gone. And half our lives have gone, too. And the quarrel is forgotten. But the pain remains.
Like the river bank, worn away, by the water under the bridge.
Let it go.