Memory hurts – our hearts are stung
But sometimes I think the pain is for
Not a particular place but more
A special time – when we were young
For freer days when we knew hope
And what we felt we had was – scope.
My daffodil, my leek, my love
My asphodel, she-dragon, you
Are green of all below, above...
We’d had bad words but now were fine
In the night she went to pee
Muttering something, the tone a sign...
