the tiny white memory
in the impersonal silence of the expanse of danygraig cemetery a small white coffin is carried ~ my mum took my tiny hand and she walked towards ~ until i pulled away ~ wilting ~ i found the rusting gates to the padlocked mausoleums fascinating ~ they were staid ~ whereas the white coffin was afraid ~ that day from seventy years ago has stayed ~ a floater in my eye narrows time ~ the smarting sun on that day sparkles like the ladybirds in the nettles ~ i have not moved on ~ yet
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