Salty soups and fur ridden carpets
The flat an entire world of its own,
Full of distant memories,
Summoned by smells of mackintosh spice.
I have remembered you clearly,
Even when you have gone away.
Glass bowls full of forbidden sweet sensations,
That rattled revealing whenever a hand was set upon it.
What have you done with yourself?
Your vodka in the fridge, our cider in the bathroom.
Always stubborn and keen to ignore
The nagging words of those younger.
All your bucketfuls of chemicals,
So close to the half bottle of brandy.
Sent you to the psychiatric ward you say,
Where you went while I was away,
And they couldn’t wash your young-looking hair.
Hair that sister and I so lovingly inherited.
We brought you the chocolates,
The chocolates you couldn’t eat, gladly.
You were and are my childhood,
Your love has set me going for miles,
The brief spells of secrets you shared with me abroad,
In that little foreign harbour town you so liked to visit.
Sweet tales of us who let the wine go to our heads.
Years before us siblings had dolls to play with,
And you had mussels to eat.
I think continually of how I’d look up to you,
What is precious I’ll never forget.
Now forever wrapped in your cable cardigan,
I have known you, all so well
And yet so little.
I wish had time to tell, you came to me in a dream
And younger than yourself you said I’m alright,
Not even a mirror image of when I saw you last.