Hard work

Between the throat infection and Steve's death...I am finding FB difficult to approach right now, because the hundreds of groups and pages Steve was constantly recommending to me are shown below the notifications corner. His name is everywhere.

I found an old poem I wrote and put it up. Steve either loved my poetry or was determined to show support for my efforts, because he always put up a comment or a 'like.'
He'll never do that again, and suddenly the world shifts around. Forever on facebook but never speaking again. Don't ask me why that makes me feel a little sick and dizzy, it just does.

The Green Party remains a difficulty for me. I don't know, really I don't know... God I wish I wasn't so tired. Lovely dinner out tonight, and here I am feeling drained as a dishcloth.

The Soldier

Laundry day by the ford
salt wet linen, wringing.
He called out, ‘The back of your neck
springs like the stem of a daisy,’
weapon to hand he was near me
And the day’s smoke came off him.

I looked up, and his jaw fell.
He ran back to the fort
telling no-one of the winding sheet
I scrubbed so clean at river run
Knowing he would be in it
by setting of the sun
© Copyright and all rights reserved Debbie Gallagher May 2014