For Chris
Your words cast a shadow,
linking the living & the dead,
I will jump across the years,
to reflect your innermost fears,
drag my breathing away from tears.
A passing air at sunset,
a glance across your page,
the heavy thump of midnight,
the dreaming of your grave.
Childhood memories beset you,
drawn from lost time's distant drum,
visions of a time of careless ease,
when you were having fun,
with those you loved around you,
on Sunny Beach, in summer sun..
John Marks
Fri 23rd Dec 2022 13:54
Thank you Hélène, Clare and Flyntland.
“The idea that one will die is more painful than dying, but less painful than the idea that another person is dead.... it is as difficult to reascend to the idea that that person has lived as, from the still recent memory of his life, it is to think that he is comparable with the insubstantial images, the memories, left us by the characters in a novel we have been reading.”
― Marcel Proust, In Search of Lost Time