I find your photos floating in the air.
They land without permissiom where they please
On the kitchen work top,down armchairs
A visitor may find at least a pair
They arrive as if you long to tease
I find your photos floating in the air.
My lost or hidden feelings still seem bare
I cannot take it in, he is deceased
By the kitchen work top stands his chair.
I must have dropped a folder over here
From my mind I cannot find release
I find his photos floating in the air.
I write a poem about him on a pier
My sister tidies as her husband cleans
From the kitchen work to my chair
I am psychic, I see things not here
I saw his death arriving by a wheeze
I find his photos floating in the air.
Father, husband, sister how death starved
All the people closest I’m deprived
I find your photos floating everywhere
I feel both joy and sorrow with deep care
