I Imagine You
I see you running in the playground,
skipping with other girls.
The green gingham frock
flying as you turn cartwheels,
hair in pigtails. I stroke
back the fringe from your forehead.
I see you loading your mini
crammed with folders, lap-top,
crumpled jeans and sweatshirts,
the bumper-sticker for that noisy band,
your wave, my panic.
Call me when you arrive,
learn lots of things.
St John’s church is filled with roses.
You hesitate, take a breath and walk.
I smile at you, adjust your veil,
throw confetti – you scowl
because most of it lands
between your breasts.
You turn dark curls to the pillow.
I’ve no words of comfort to make you feel
forgiven, no pills for the ache of loss.
It’s no comfort to me
you will never know reality.