I reached under the bed to move the smaller basket and felt its heaviness.
Inside I found the lovingly stored equipment of two watercolour painters.
All in mid-use.
The Words of Others
'The North Star', the half-heard radio said,
No matter in what connection; and the tears sprang
Sliding across my eyes - so that I heard no more -
Hiding this paper, but not that constellation
That shines in my brain and ever at that door
Where we stood always when stars were bright at bedtime,
Stood in the dark night air, joined in love and gazing.
And in a book I read - a few words only -
'The rowan alerady bright with berries';
And at once we stand together in that enchantment and place
First found that day, and I picked the oak-leaf spray
To hold it always - but now only with tears.
I have it still, shrivelled and dry, among my treasures.
Mary Stella Edwards, January - February 1973.
