Take with you my spirit.
I brought it with me when I visited;
Tasting of apples, smelling of cheap perfume:
Happy to see you.

With no key, no schedule,
I was the Prince, you were Repunzel:
Smiling at me out your window.
Your arms were my favourite place in the world.

Take with you the picture
Of my sad eyes: heavy and puffed.
Holding my own hand.
Happy that I now could.

I made my choices, lost my way.
You learned more about me then.
Frown lines cracked my porcelain face.
Your presence offered me solace.

Take with you my love;
It stayed around all these years.
Missing your hands, searching for your eyes.
Happy to have met them.

Time took with it the motions.
Though, inside me we both stand still.
I catch glimpses of your arms, and your delight,
But you are no longer in the crowd.

A light came into the world,
Wearing a long dress,
The nicest smile,
Carrying the greatest heart of gold.

That light had a son:
Our best friend, father and Grandad,
The most wonderful other half
To an already lovely woman.

Together they had a family,
Joining heritages,
Crossing seas,
Found themselves in Leeds.

But that was only the beginning of the journey:
Between the weekend trips with their good friends,
The cruises where they laughed and danced,
Wearing his best bow tie;

To the sofa days,
Keeping up with the Gaelic.
A man with many loves,
And Ireland remained one.

I remember when Grandad would visit home,
And he would share stories of their travels.
He was so kind-hearted, and so accepting.
His mother's light shone on him.

Years pass us too quickly.
Thank you for being a great father to my father and his siblings, and the wives and husband they love too.
Thank you for giving Granny such a wonderful journey in this life. May her voice still linger in your ears.
And thank you for being our Grandad. Our days with you will never be forgotten.

***

Paint me a picture;
Our souls aligned for just a moment.
The midnight sky, heavy with ***** of fire:
Just as your eyes.

We were the grey,
In a world of black and white.
A picturesque sea;
The history beneath.

Tell me a story:
A flame that burned within.
Two people standing,
One foot apart.

Side by side,
In a world of mystery.
Individuals as we’re standing,
But one in ecstasy.

Put them together,
Place your palm in mine.
Stand with me atop the highest heights.
Beam from within.

We are forever,
In consciousness, in unison.
Though we are apart.
We will meet again in Arcadia.

Ten, nine-eight, seven,
Six-five, four,
Three-two, one.
Hopscotch.
No one questioned.
No one laughed or pouted.
The rain washed away the colours,
And we started again tomorrow.

Seven thirty,
Seven thirty,
Seven thirty,
Seven thirty,
And so on.
We need answers.
We need reasons.
We are stuck in our tomorrows.
Our present fades out fast.

We are locked up in our timers;
Slaves to our master mints.
Our souls are dying,
With nowhere to hide
And no one to seek them.
Time does not stand still.

The chalk was our past time,
The clock is our taker,
And we play ourselves.

Is this where it ends?
The pouring of words,
The same as the rain against the window.
Moisture to the grass.
Safely unlatching the gate,
The horses huff in the darkness.
The sky so bare,
But it reminds me of someone else;
Beneath his chin, beneath our dreams.
Is this where we have come?
To my insincerities,
To my lies, disguised as truths.
Half-truths, we will say.
Your arms an honour:
Your doors are opening,
Finally,
But I am locked behind my own.
Is this where the road ends?
Cooped up for too long,
The light has escaped our space;
Casting shade in your eyes
And doubt on me.
With the road that lay ahead, breaking slowly,
Crumbling in slow motion:
So loudly, so harshly.
Is this where we end?
Individual thoughts on the unknown:
Opinions and perspective
The world went upside down when you spoke,
Tossing me off my feet,
The red of my hair the last thing I recall.
An inner voice spoke then:
The clucks and the chatters faded.
Until it all became void.
But this is not the first time,
This will not be the last.
Although, it is the end:
To the vanilla latte air,
To the inconvenience.
The pins on the map are all mine now,
The administration is yours.
I have no more debt,
And the circles never combined anyway.
The sun sets while we look away,
As always,
And then we drift off:
Into the abyss, into our own worlds,
Into individuality.
Until we find our voices,
And start again.