IlweranMirime

Lunch time I wander round the charity shops. Search through a sea of bobbled jumpers, Faded print dresses, stretched & shapeless t-shirts. Sometimes, bobbing on the waves, something catches my eye - A Victorian mourning brooch. A notebook with the beginning of someone written towards their end. A silver charm bracelet, its charms - Eiffel tower, lovespoon, bagpipes - giving clues to its former owners travels. A faded cat staring from a frame. Dinka, the back tells me. December 1977. All unmoored from their history, their meaning separated from them.

It's summer. Too recent to be sepia tinged in memory, But just as irretrievably gone. The summer you perched on the fence post under the silver birch. The summer you ran, a streak of tarnished silver across the lawn. The summer you shouted and purred and cuddled with Fry and squabbled with Nozomi all for the last time. The summer I held you as you died then carried you home in the rain.

It was after the world ended (with a bang for those who could hear) After gravity and fear pulled me towards you After my helplessness was laid bare and I watched you spinning away After the acrid scent of doubt and guilt choked me That’s when I noticed the birds had fallen silent

The rain kept coming Waterlogged lawns, borders turned to marsh. The rain kept coming Roads become rivers, villages lakes. Still it came. After 40 days and 40 nights the tears stopped. I rose and looked at the new world.

Flash of feline grey Cheetahs across the garden Birds watch warily