Carmel

Artwork: Maddy Brown

Two years and one to the day

did the blood drain from your face

in that House on the Burley,

nestled in green and blown by wind,

forgetting but not forgotten.

Wearing your warm woolly cap,
a beanie baby drifting in distant oceans.

While every night he stood vigil,

watching your spark flicker

towards the horizon, the Unreal.

I held your hand and told you stories

ending with birds, beaches and
melting paddle pops.
Candles spat as I kneeled in that holy place,

my chamber of reflection.
Where would you go on this borderless journey?

As dark shores become black seas

become glassy clouds.
Outside on the Burley, small waves wept gently

against shattered shells.

This I saw as I walked the Wallace Labyrinth

following its solitary spiral path to the centre,

and back out again.
A momentary kernel of calm surrounded

by water and weeping willows.

The Burley, as I see it now, was a mirror

into the past, the future and eternity,

both yours and mine.
Two years and one to the day
did you stop forgetting.

Memories once sung with laughing kingfishers

inexorably faded in that oncoming fog

hell-bent on dousing all.
Yet today I feel the fire and beat of wing.

Forgetting but not forgotten.