forever was the day before
the day before he died
i met him in M&S
‘one day at a time’ he mon o toned
i said something vacuous
cannot remember what
it was by the fruit section
i remember that much
to everything its season
that sort of vacuous
oh Lyn bach
i do miss your recollections
the past you populated with characters
as rich as the breeze in your gower trees
long bent on the houses you had built
the lives you had led
the reminiscences of a smile
your ‘say that again’
no longer in your quizzical chair
by the grandfather clock
it’s tock
slow tock
is tocking still
empty in the agony of my turning
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