Last Words of a Romantic

Last Words of a Romantic

The landfills, trash heaps, pits,
and dustbins of the world
are choked with things we need.

Not just forgotten egg-cups
or tea-spoons scraped off in haste,
but a wedding ring or two;
lost snapshots, wedding day forget-me-nots,
love letters, perfumed,
touched by a woman's fingers,
tinged with the ghost of lipstick...

A baby's first lock of hair,
or first masterpiece in crayons
- which foretold so much more
than chance could allow...

And gift cards and Valentines,
Mother's Day and Father's Day,
Birthday cards, Christmas cards
just smothered with Xs,
bought with kisses, sent with love.

And lost souvenirs that still bring a tear;
some precious thing,
like when you said,
"That'd be a nice one to keep.
'Your son did much better this year.'"

And those much loved, much-thumbed,
well-remembered books,
lovingly bought, dedicated
'Dear Dad, we love you so...'
crying out to be touched,
fondled, savoured
and read once more
beside crackling fires
of sweet chestnut memory;
along with his smelly pipe,
his scruffy slippers,
the one tongueless,
the other footless,
threadbare as his whitening bones
lying beside them.