Tuesday, 17 January 2012

All things come to an end....






Our mattress...

Going for walks, unrealistically beautiful, mountains in view,
Higher trees you could not be nearer to,
Forest you pass, and big open fields,
A wood pecker smartly coloured darts right in front of us.

Horses bold and standing strong,
Grass up to our elbows,
Flowers swaying like songs.

Waiting for the bus, on mornings cold.
Playing at ‘toupi’ battles,
Telling rhymes, calling the dog back,
Playing I spy, passing the time.

Now we wait, before our new journey unfolds
The fresh air and misty breath of the 5 of us.
Waiting to hear about our new life,
As yet, untold.

We are now, here, at an end,
Time to leave our well made friend,
The children think they’re French, it’s all they’ve known
Their life, their language, how they’ve grown.

Going back to our 'mother land',
The path for us has shifted, and
You not there to hold my hand.

Our way of life, the things we’ve been, together, trying to do,
It all stops now,
Other ways of living to go through.

Ridding the unecessaries, going through all our ‘stuff’
It’s only things of this world,
For me, owning things, I’ve had enough,

I get on with it, ruthlessly giving it away,
But the one thing, which I have to part with,
I just cannot, no money could value it, No amount could pay.

Our mattress where we slept,
Legs entwined,
Over this, I have wept and wept.

Now sleeping in your imprint,
Where your body has carved your own next to mine,
I do not care about the furniture, the bed,
But leaving this, is like leaving you behind,

Since you were taken,
I sleep in your engraving.
It’s my deep reminder of you,
It’s kept me going, not fading

I feel you,
I feel peace,
In your body’s imprint in the mattress,
Parting with this is pure distress.

It’s all I have left of you in the house,
A tangible memory of times gone by
It’s here I am close to you.
Your imprint, not just that, but your own body’s sign.

I have to trust,
I have my faith,
But at the moment, it’s true, I do feel somewhat lost.

Our new path Alex, Monty, Lola, Mitzi, Esmie
And me,
I wonder what it beholds?
I wonder what will unfold.

France is over,
Life as we lived it gone,
But He, who is love forever,
A very present help in times of need,

Really, I know it’s Him who leads.

I will trust and I will follow,
And give to Him my present sorrow.

No comments:

Post a Comment