May I ask a favour,

one that might upset you

as it upsets me;

just for one day,

on our anniversary,

do I have to mourn you?

 

Would it be O.K.

that today

on the day we remember

twenty-one years together,

that you allow me to grieve for you

without breaking my heart?

 

Our time was brief,

I knew of you for ten minutes,

before that I had never

heard your name;

yet somehow you have stayed

in my head longer than most women.

 

Your head in my lap,

I cradled you to sleep

and when your breath was silent,

still, forgotten, I remembered you,

may I now, for one day mourn you

without seeing your face.

 

The sirens punctured the air,

the dead night once more alive,

as your blessed blood caressed

my shirt, people gathered

around paying respects to us both,

may I now forget you.

 

I know our lives are forever entwined

in that moment, I grieve for you,

I wish your life had been full,

not taken away as I held your hand

on a cold October evening,

the dead of Salisbury Market Square.

 

Ian D. Hall 2016