These last days slipped by
un-noticed by the world around me.
They scurry about their lives with no notion
of the anniversary
we are counting
this week.
It is simple to think
a year has drifted by,
and so very hard to believe
all at the same time.
There has been much change,
in myself,
in others….today will pass without
bothering
who it shouldn’t.
I’ve learned, again,
to keep parts of you inside;
our secrets,
best hidden away.
And when I bring you roses today,
not even you will see them.
They will be red, for love,
…always love…
orange, for pride…
yellow;
for an absent friendship.
They will never have water,
the buds will not bloom,
but no matter,
all the same,
I will bring them for you.
And an anniversary will creep by
in the October mud,
as I lay
the very last, tender rose.
This one is white,
for things forgiven, and cherished,
that will never now
need words.
For you mum...you were always proud of my writing.
Wherever you are, may you finally be free.
With love. xxx
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