By Sarah Saxty, who knew someone with PH
If he could have one more Spring,
I’d fill it to the brim
With unlocked ears and clear sight.
Feel his breath upon my skin and touch
The jagged threads upon his chest.
Listen more carefully to the insistent bird tweet of time.
Unveil those curled green, hopeful shoots
And bask in the wavy sea of unending bluebells.
How I long for one more knocking of wood on willow
One more tug upon my arm
Of caring watchfulness.
Alone but not lone with
His loyal Otto at my feet.
We walk beside the echoing daffodil trumpets calling to new life.
Listen to the breeze calling out his name.
Feel the insistent tug as a flag banners out his past glories and live his current silent presence as Spring returns again to that smooth view of rolling hills.
If he could have one more Spring I’d spend every tick of time embraced in his smile.
