A bitter wind from the Caucasus
Whips across Streatham Common, whistling in the trees.
It is March – and I have come to say goodbye to a friend.
A ring of magnolias surrounds me and I’ll wait
Until it’s safe for me to leave.
It snowed here yesterday, and patches remain
Like something they forgot to clear away.
Everywhere I look the air is blue, colder
Than anything I have inside me. And I remember
All those things we can never remember forever,
Which he will never forget.
The magnolias surround me like sentries. I should know
More about flowers – when they bloom and when they die,
And what they mean to those who know.
But I will know when it is time. I feel the light
Fading, folding into evening,
While he is where there is no change.
And being here, I know it will never be time
To turn from the shadow and slip from the silhouette
Until I learn to be still in the light and forget.
