You spoke of times long gone,
You spoke of Bangkok,
Strange accents,
Stranger diets.
You disarmed with laughter -
That sound was alien too long.
Did you know somehow,
None more would be forthcoming,
The way you laughed that day?
Memories are tricky;
On good days they bring remembrance
Of golden lockets from Kuala Lumpur
Shaped into a heart
Now long lost;
The sound of mortar and pestle
When you ground
Spices, herbs, hearts;
On good days you remember
A new car with meaning in its numbers,
And prayers floating in church
Long after it was deserted.
On bad days-
But one should not dwell on bad days,
What is the point?
Suffice it to say
On bad days
You remember Pink Floyd
And Time.
And Death-
Somewhere an unwilling pseudo widow
Is drowned in the good and bad,
As she struggles to explain
Absence
To sweet fruit
Born of blighted seeds.
