Calum always put in an extra full stop. Or other punctuation so that his work was. Deliberately not perfect sometimes. He exaggerated.
five sunflowers in a lemon-yellow vase
cat tiger-striped on the rug in the sun
Sunday afternoon is easy
silent sprung stillness
until the inevitable strike
vain struggle soon over
we flourished in the sun
harvesting one another’s flowers
and now we feed tomorrow’s fields
some hide smiles
some hide eyes
many tiny invisible lies
your mask hides your smile
but still how I’m struck
to see your eyes laughing
We have been together for longer than we haven’t.
Do you remember that day, that beer in the village,
that evening, that night?
Do you remember? I do.
And yes, life has changed,
life has definitely changed us,
life has of course green splintered and mended,
yes to all of those things, yes of course.
But still when I see you,
my eyes open or closed tight,
still when I see you I remember that evening,
the evening when the shadows were gone.
On a memorial stone I saw
‘She let us be ourselves’.
The ‘let’ had been black-inked over
and ‘helped’ written above it.
I wish I had known her.
Or known her better.
The country’s colours. Saltire. Tartan.
Surgical. Bananas. Edinburgh Spartans.
Superhero. Butterflies. Suns and moons rising.
Everybody staying safe, everyone still trying.
is how you described your love
nearly but not quite