It was only at the end
that I realised that I was my imaginary friend’s
imaginary friend.
That all I had desired and loved was really all they had ever
wanted. Even if at the moment of desperation I should make the ultimate
sacrifice, arms outstretched and one foot hovering in the air ready to leap
a thousand buildings and a hundred memories with
a smile on my invisible face;
they would pull me back, talk loudly and with a blaze
of anger and energy
…And the bugler plays his final note
As my cousin holds his mother close to him
Away from the winter chill she bows her head within his suit and coat
Whilst keeping her demeanour proper and trim.
The December wind is driving home the chill of loss
As friends and family gather together to mourn and see
November’s Poppies and Roses come together and apart they toss
Scattered to the four winds and whispering R.I.P.
The stories the minister told of your life,
The passing of a Human being in the celebration of a word
I have the familiarity of a journey
Yet to be taken, yet one step away from you and drive
Deeper into my Internal Haze. It is voyage,
A tumble through what remains of what is to come as
you go and start and star in a wonderful life…
I cannot hold on to you.
I would rather drown a thousand times than let you throw me
A ring of comfort, a sign of help I badly want to hold because I know that in the end
I may well be then on higher ground away from the raging tempest