I Won’t Do That Again.
I remember
…..the brown suede shoes left near the bed
but he will never come to me in them again.
…..the ribboned medals in the drawer
from his grandfather’s war…
The captain who will never fight again.
…the quiche lorraine for lunch… on Saturdays
which I , habitually would bake…
but I don’t make it anymore.
….the walks on Sunday mornings..tall old trees
and Kenwood House
…spring leaves and autumn leaves.
I drive by it now….
… the sun hot stones in Zakynthos
… small towns in France
on summer days and lying down
in fields of lavender…
…the scent, the wine… spectacular .
The small dark restaurant..with candle wax
in Charlotte Street …where we would eat
… risotto ….pollo …calamari pie.
I walk right past it now.
….I threw my tranny radio at him
in purple rage one day.
….it crashed against the wall
and music played.
I won’t do that again !
Kristine Byrne
11th Nov. 2014