A Graveside Reunion

by Paul Tristram / January 6th, 2019

I can sense you forever watching me carefully
through the invisible veil.
Silently blessing my a-tishoo
during those long, rambling
Summer walks
through the woods,
in-and-out of our special, hidden places.
Your spectral breath
upon my cold neck
on early January mornings
when I’ve yet again,
fallen asleep upon the settee,
not making it to our (once) bed,
with nothing…
but your small picnic blanket
covering my shivering frame.
I am coming, my love,
though it is slowly,
I am inching back towards you
a snail-crawling day at a time.
I grimace through every empty breakfast,
but smile at each new Sunset…
which brings me closer home to your loving side.

Paul Tristram is a widely published Welsh writer who deals in the Lowlife, Outsider, and Outlaw genres.  He wrote his first poem as a teenager following his release from the (Infamous) Borstal ‘HMP Portland’, and he has been creating Literary Terrorism ever since. Read other articles by Paul, or visit Paul's website.

This article was posted on Sunday, January 6th, 2019 at 8:03am and is filed under Poetry.