Posted in Love

Fugacious

Posted on by tq1695

VSA,
VSO
charity work abroad
selflessness
good deeds : improving the lives of others.

Forlorn
self esteem abducted
lonely
excluded from happiness,
forever, or so it seemed.

On day one, she smiled, unknowing, welcome its only intention.
On day three
she conjured circumstance to magic –
her bedroom: her bed. For almost a week.
Long ago
faded and vivid
insistent and careless
memory’s dye leaks understanding.

Beautiful, vivacious, voluptuous.
abroad and alone
a good deed
selflessness
improved self esteem of another.

Less handsome
less pedigree
more surprise : more gratitude.
The finite now –
days and year
top and left, in brackets on a whiteboard –
erasable,
no forensics : past or future.
Gone, gone forever.
What might Burns have written,
home is the daughter, home to the Home Counties.

At home,
in the Home Counties, no one would know.

Posted in Before the Rain

Over and Out.

Posted on by tq1695

The office dated from the 1940’s
refurbished in the 60’s at a guess
was so old it had a blackboard – blackboard?
Black/green structure written on with chalk – chalk?
Before whiteboards and markers and screens = blackboard plus chalk
in my office, always waiting – duster, calcium sticks of colour –
white, red, blue green, yellow
ready to go – never used, until ….
The last day,
some equipment needs to be returned to a sister facility
spokes and hub
I had been involved – minor – from the bench,
can I take it back? “Sure.”
Early afternoon – 30 minute drive
must to be checked – “wouldn’t you know it, Jim’s out – have a coffee,”
chat + chat …
Jim returns
chats…. And then some.
“Right, all good – sign here. You’re welcome. Any time.” Back, late, everybody’s gone
down the corridor for the second last time,
on the blackboard, written in chalk
Bryan wishes me well, and Good Luck.

Posted in Before the Rain

Whodunit

Posted on by tq1695

Newspaper questions : What? Where? Why?
And who?
The last which troubled me – deeply – woke me up
I desperately wanted to know his or her identity, It had to have been male
the glass ceiling a glass foyer then …..
still – “WHO?”
The boss, always certain about this uncertainty
apparently a decision,  “they,” at head office made 

“They.” Ever present all-powerful and invisible
the hangman whose identity remains unknown.
For the final days of my then career
I sort to decipher the signature on the death warrant.
At our last meeting an offer of conditional surrender – I would go quietly
if I could know,
he told me he didn’t.
Perhaps desperation failed. Or perhaps truth succeeded.

Either way
moonlight never rose over the dark 
impossible to prise loose two words.
He could have paid half price ….. a surname only.
Acceptance,
impossible without forgiveness
forgiveness impossible without knowing .
closure, a concept – understood, but unreachable.

Half a decade on
harsh notes of grief fade to symmetry.
Tragedy. A motorcycle fatality. His first born.
Highway forensics still an infant science
no verdict could be returned.
Who took this from him. He doesn’t know.