The 6th August
Sitting here under the beech tree,
listening to the quiet conversation of
neighbours and the rustle of leaves.
The sun peeps out and scurries away
behind the clouds, but it is warm and soft
in the breeze that plays gently
through the sway.
Muffled motorbikes roar past and
planes drone overhead, the bees
and the flies buzz closer at hand
and I sit
and I listen
and I feel.
All the waves of grief and loss.
A wondering of what this day
might have brought for us.
I lit a candle to mark the day our baby
should have come into the world and
watched the wax melt and reform until
the flame went out.
I look down now at my beautiful
engagement ring.
A promise.
We crafted it as a branch of a tree and set a
sparkling diamond with a heart of rainbows.
It reflects the leaves of the beech tree above
as I sit here and write.
Hold Fast it says inside.
It is a beautiful thing, to watch the glittering stone
and the carpet of green grass beneath my feet.
I can hear snippets of conversations nearby
as voices rise and fall and people pass by
on the other side of the fence.
High above me, a woman wearing purple lifts
a sash window and peers out.
It comes open with a mischievous squeak,
a sound far removed from all the others around.
and it makes me look up, drawing my attention.
She has beautiful white hair and as she
looks out upon the garden, I lean
back slightly so that she will not notice me
sitting here beneath the tree.
I stay perfectly still, hoping that my own coat of green
will provide camouflage and she draws her head
back inside to continue her day.
I look up one more time into the branches
of the beech and feel protected.
It has wrapped its arms around me
and sheltered me from pain.
High above me, a woman wearing purple lifts
a sash window and peers out.
It comes open with a mischievous squeak,
a sound far removed from all the others around.
and it makes me look up, drawing my attention.
She has beautiful white hair and as she
looks out upon the garden, I lean
back slightly so that she will not notice me
sitting here beneath the tree.
I stay perfectly still, hoping that my own coat of green
will provide camouflage and she draws her head
back inside to continue her day.
I look up one more time into the branches
of the beech and feel protected.
It has wrapped its arms around me
and sheltered me from pain.