For Mum
one year after we said goodbye for the last time.
When a dozen daisies
upturned their faces
to eggshell skies
and the sun
warmed your back
enough to shed
your winter twinset
your eyes danced
like teeming pools
you drank the scented breeze
like a parched anemone gulps soft rain
i could see your spirit wriggle
splash like a blue tit in a bird bath.
Dad bought you a brooch
One year in some desert place
bright enamelled freesias;
another more temperate time
stems of fragrant blooms
packed in cool cotton- wool
from Guernsey
as if you were still
In love.
You filled the house
with narcissi and irises
you loved blue and yellow
hummed about your housewife chores
and recited Browning
because you had been scorched
by the flaming tropical sun
And the English spring
gave you back your youth
and life.
They had brushed your hair
a hundred strokes
it spread on the pillow
a cloud of apple blossom
in a Kentish orchard
your hands soft as petals
did not want to let go
of mine
your face expectant
as an April pansy.
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