Monday, 8 May 2017

Letter to my (broken) beloved

I knew you, from before
the moment you tottered
taking your first steps
toward your mama. 

I followed you, a 
bird perched on your 
shoulder, chirping
as you picked up
the scissors to cut your
hair yourself. Little 
hands trembling. 

I held you. By the 
arms, stopping you
pulling brows from
your face, only moments 
after your first fight 
with sweet Adele. 

I never left your side when
you immersed yourself in the
joyous pleasures of young 
adulthood. Waiting for you
to return home so I could stroke 
your hair, and wipe the expired 
mascara from beneath your eyes. 

Then, when you stumbled over
your own feet into your first 
true love I drew arcs over 
your head with my toes,
making a halo for you.You 
never needed to look up,
but I was always there. 

And I’ll be there - I am 
here - now that that love 
has morphed into nothing 
more than the withered root 
of an orchard still attached to
beautiful but
already dead blooms.

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