A Cage To Hold My Dreams
Cries From The Heart
I went on one of our favourite walks today and
thinking myself to be slightly ahead of you I waited
at the brow of the hill and called your name twice.
I still make two cups of coffee and carry them into
the living-room, expecting you to be there but your
knitting has been put away and the fire is burnt out.
The sound of your voice is everywhere, whispering
or laughing from the settee, from the cushions and
from the cookery books you had such fun collecting.
If I had the ability to forget you I would draw a veil
over your memory ; because thinking about you
hurts me so deeply that I can't think straight anymore.
And this is winter, when the countryside is yearning
for warmer days the way I yearn for you. Frost clings
onto the trees and the earth mourns the summer past.
I am glad of the grey sky, the weary, dreary weather
prospects for tomorrow, the late trains and chill winds
Grief is more bearable while there is nothing to enjoy
How I dread the coming of spring, when nature wakes
up again, gives the landscape a fresh coat of paint,
and everything that sings or dances jumps to its feet.
Next spring will be my first one without you. These
hedgerows with their wild grasses and honeysuckle and
daisies will gaze at the sun, and not know you are gone.
They will not grieve for you in that heavy, despairing,
human way that I do, and I envy their freedom to enjoy
the things around them because they have no memory.
Years from now I shall stand in crowded bar-rooms
with music blaring and the loud noise of people talking,
and I shall hear only the cries from inside my heart.
