You smiled quietly when we gave you a card, cleared your throat and said thanks. We found them all you know, when we were clearing the loft, all in date order (you’d pencilled the date on each envelope), held together with a rubber band, wrapped in plastic and sellotaped down. I’m not sure why we all wrote this one.
day
and then again to sleep
sleep
sleep
sleep
dream
sleep
sleep
shower
porridge
rainstorm
tea
tea
biscuit
tea perhaps
felafel
work then more
and more work
tea again
then goodbyes
rain so run to the bus stop
kitchen
salad ice cream
TV on the sofa
reading a short story
and then again to sleep
Moon time
Milk-white light spills through the crescent slit in sky
Trees cast broken spider web shadows
I look at my phone as you tell me with you the sun is shining
The earth has spun you away
Three pieces about the shortest and longest days (2 by me, 1 by Karina Brink)
The shortest day beckons sunlight.
The darkest night is before the dawn.
The path ahead may be through the shadows
but even this will pass.
***
The longest day brings an abundance of light.
Banishes all darkness & shadows.
At night, short & sweet:
Only dreams
Of hope.
***
Dreams of colour, splintered light.
The darkness behind the mirror leaves us with the shortest night.
And hope slow burns.
Honoured to share a page with Karina Brink @KarinaMSzczurek
simonsalento 