
Winter trees

Made by Katherine
The wooden sides and base are worn to smooth
I stare into the river water soothes
London’s first clean water from far springs
Now your ashes mingle as birds sing
I cannot take them back,dissolved to mud.
Nor see your face again as a wife should
I let you go and set you free to fly
What kind of love is this that lets men die?
As you lay, your cubicle smelled sweet.
Peaceful as a heather moor retreat
When we walked I held your hand in mine
We walked round a small lake to see geese fly
We sauntered, in a rhythm were aligned
Time had stopped, the geese in circles climbed
Then swept onto the path as we came by
When we walked I held your hand in mine
Like a natural god, the geese divine
Landed in their beauty with a sigh
We entered a new rhythm, were aligned
On the shining water geese in line
Float and hunt for food with little cries
When we walked I held your hand in mine
In our garden for your love I pine
I may never love another till I die
We sauntered, in a rhythm were aligned
God is on the mountain with his lyre
Singing of the beauty of desire
When we walked I warmed your hand in mine
We lived attuned to love until you died
Photo by E.L copyright
The sun broke through the fuzzy clouds of grey
Boris Johnson’s fiddling in dismay
Beige sky lightens with a hint of blue
On the leaves a coat of frosty dew.