this young soul
stoic as a viking
came last night
shutting our gate
in rain that bit
and bounced, 
her head bowed
only for the shield
of hair across her neck

and I thought 
I would cry violets
if I were her.
great petals 
stealing colour
falling like irises.
I can picture 
streaming purple,
my feet in the pooling
from my eyes

but her face
exact as porcelain
was printed with calm
and tonight
as I step outside,
the stars are flowering
in gentle garden beds
of clouds and
I feel her gravity,
gathered like moss,
in the cool air
around my shoulders.

5 thoughts on “L

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