The Walk

I enjoyed our walk today over the hills
Where splendid colours danced on leaves
The smell of wet trees and daffodils
The confident kiss of Summer’s breeze

We sat for a while, drank cold tea and laughed
Remember, the radio played a song by Cliff
“Poor man’s Elvis” you said, acting daft
But these miss you nights are the longest

I asked if you were happy to which your smile replied
And all at once my soul was light
Soaring high from the pain inside
…love in perpetual flight

Don’t think I could love you more than this day
I said, like a blind man to the lark
Yet I know tomorrow’s song will be as gay
I hear absence doth make a fond heart

We spoke of the children, and holiday treats
Of far away lands with kaleidoscope birds
“A week in the Lakes is more up our street”
And I shrunk into the warmth of your words

The sky, like a canvas of shameless cerise
Cast skinny shadows on the land
And as the sun ebbed away past the evening’s trees
We walked down the hill hand in hand

I knew that we’d part when we got to the weir
And reluctantly I’d start up the track
To sit and stare at the empty armchair,
To sit and wish you back, but…you see

When a butterfly lands in a field on a flower
Then changes it’s mind and flies to the sun
A pastiche of nature’s delicate power
Do we embrace it’s arrival or sigh when it’s gone?

Of course, they think I’m mad. Put it down to the sorrow
Who gives a fig…same time tomorrow?