Her knitting is laid to rest

amongst the mess

I promised to clean up

My promise to her

to clean my room in her house

I didn’t know she would leave so soon.

She was gone in a rush

I didn’t photocopy the leaving

in my sentimental brain

Uncertain file for memories like these.

A morning of strange details

Collecting lacy handkerchiefs

Ironed and folded

Placed lovingly in her bag

Sending her to school

A banana for later

for when…?

A notepad and pen

She will never write to me…

When she has gone from here

I will straighten the doilies upon her chair

Pull her curtains across

But she is not there.

Someone else says goodnight to her now

Sees her sleeping and waking and living

And I’m not there to share her days

Except to sit and smile under their watchful


The lost and bewildered herded together

To speak in disjointed sentences

breaking off midway to shake their heads

Another thread unraveled

Pulled away from the cloth that was their


                                                                                               3rd August 2010

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