Beneath The Mountain Ash
by Louise Gallagher
The space you held
remains, not empty,
filled with echoes of memory
once alive with your soft laughter,
rippling through time
like the rhythmic tick-tock
of the cuckoo clock you loved
on the wall beside the kitchen sink
merrily chiming away the passing hours.
I see you there,
at the kitchen sink
hands veiled in soapy water,
gazing out to where the Mountain Ash
stands, bare
shrouded in snow,
its roots frozen,
awaiting the tender thaw
of spring’s warm breath.
I see you
still, standing silent
beneath its naked branches.
I close my eyes
and breathe the air
scented with lingering tendrils
of the perfume you wore,
it clings to the soft blue shawl
I've wrapped around my shoulders.
It was yours, in the before time.
I hold it close
and wrap it around my shoulders,
tightly.
I breathe. In. Out.
Silently, you fade
into memory’s warm embrace.
Beneath the Mountain Ash
24 Wednesday Jan 2024
Posted Uncategorized
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