Once you wrote here, laughed here
Before King Tut was found, before Titanic was lost.
Faded silk and curiosities from a century ago
In this diorama of a room…
A Venetian blackamoor with a carved feather skirt.
an ormolu table top
An urn of walking canes, a spoon-back chair
I breathe it all in
a confluence of time and place –
and savour the distant melody of your life
before time steals the notes away
and I’m left singing acapella your song.
Yet, all this I still find in your fierce imagination
And in the waning winter days I read
Til moonlight limns a path through the snow to my soul.
I read and I read.
By Elaine Coish