Memorium

I was there

and heard your flesh turn to ash

in that pious sanitized furnace,

my glazed eyes lost far more

than the sight of you as the flames roared,

myriad memories too were burned out, shrivelled

and dashed to the winds that blind us,

the winds that force us to wither inside,

to forget those infinitesimal motes of me and you,

the ageless winds that cut our faces, make us old.

Will there be a place, a celestial cache

for lost memories that weren’t

shared or couldn’t be passed between us,

mindlessly rekindled over cups of tea

or pints of beer, that

weren’t urgently bequeathed

for safety’s sake, by a simple touch of hands,

a repository where one day we’ll meet

and rummage through those lost things

as at a bazaar, a place where we can

stitch ourselves together once again

Published by grahamrsherwood