I miss you
Lost in your words of a childhood we could never know
Canyons of loss across a lifetime
War, your Mother, my Father,
The loss of romance and in the end
it all came down to
I miss the feel of you
Your cheek soft as what?
I don’t know, but your skin was SO soft,
Your hands lean and elegant, skin smooth to touch,
You would have laughed at that, saying Oh No, the years of gardening, washing, laundry
But they were smooth when I held them
I miss your yearning for the other world
I miss your simple joy in the life in the gardens you inhabited
The lushness of that last garden at Booran rd.
Your need for a little shed and a seat
Wednesday nights when I had you to myself
I read your poems and am reduced to tears.
You thought you would never be good enough to write for anyone to read
But I read you Mum, I read you.