The scent of roses.
In my beginning
there was night,
a summer garden
the scent of roses
& you singing
a lullaby.
The garden still
exists: I’ve seen it
in photos, the roses
a legacy to your love
on my way to the shops
I stopped, came across
these great blousy beasts
& their sweet pungent scent
brought you back to me.
In my beginning
before the storm of evil:
I can call it that now,
although at the time
I had no words;
in my beginning
there was love.
It’s summer again
reminding me
of starlit walks
you tall in your
homburg, your suit
impeccable, like those
old movie stars.
A man & a child
traversing empty streets
over the railway bridge
& home again where you lay
me down to sleep
in the moonlit garden.
A unique kind of man
not the ordinary variety
you ranged the seven seas
brought back exotic gifts
I followed you in dreams
it always seemed to me
you were my guardian angel.
I’m waking now from sleep
so many years & leaps
have passed: you left me
suddenly one September
carried off by lightning;
no time to say goodbye,
no last absorbing hug,
a chasm in my heart that
never heals.
Now time’s done this to me
I’m lost from myriad paths
I could have leaped:
but summer’s here again,
I walk the city streets
& the roses with their scent
still bring you home with me.