My uncle said
'there's not enough
beauty
in the world'.
He said that
he was happy, but tired,
and he wished wished wished
he had more time.
That he feared for the man
who lived life
avoiding the things
that make it worthwhile.

He had this idea
for a poem
about fireworks over a Rio slum,
and one about
wet leaves sweeping
across a busy airport,
but he said he didn't know
where to start.
And I said right now,
right right now.
And I said there was beauty
everywhere
if you look hard enough.
Like flowers caught on
barbed wire fences.
Like a butterfly escaping a
furious cat.
Like lovehearts stamped
into frozen puddles.

And he said that
'I was right',
smiling into his half empty pint glass.