Saturday June

Duchess

People like you are made the children of gods.

The reason life gave us life.

Or one atom split to two.

Why Adam whipped out his rib.

And DNA found RNA.

A single spacious neuron contains infinity, at its centre you sit.

As fully composed as the dawn of day.

You rose above and elevated those below.

As solid as double-diamond.

As inuitive as empty prairie waiting for snow.

The alphabet bowed out and gesture admitted defeat.

Neither could account for such gracious gravity.

Such immense majesty.

If I could build you the Taj Mahal or if St Paul's had space, it wouldn't be enough.

Words wilt with inarticulate dismay.

Embarassed by their inability to convey.

There's no account for the ways you found to smile.

To love.

No more an account than for seconds or sands.

Your love disarmed the day.
Set children free to play.
And gave soul its reason to stay.


Advice

Old before your time, you said.
Sit down you said,
Patting the bed.
Your closely curled grey hair was thick with pins.
The room smelt like talc and polish.
The quilt was padded and pink.
Our feet flat on the floor, knees touching.
We lay.
The setting sun stroked your skin.
And bathed the room.
A welcome warmth settled in.
Your advice was sadonic, infused with the wisdom of age.
Dry with wit.
It cut to the quick.