The child that never was

A dog barks, a distant yap.
Birds twitter and flit from tree top to roof top.
A seagull’s lazy cry pierces the low hum of traffic.
A siren’s soft whine quickens this adagio.
A soft flurry of muffled sounds.
Then all grows quiet once again.
Nothing here to make me think of you,
yet I do.

Late afternoon light. A fading, busy day that will
soon be followed by the stillness of night.
This day has seen dashing and rushing about.
It has overheard a misunderstood conversation and laughter.
Another scribbled square on the kitchen calendar
and on to the next.
Still no escaping thinking about you,
so I do.

Salty air on skin, fresh sting of sand blast wind.
Gusting gently, accompanying the sea’s soulful swell
almost keeping time in a syncopated rhythm.
Salted lips, tangy taste of coastal walks on tongue.
Four legged and two legged friends
leaving their prints behind.
Trying not to think about you,
but I do.

Smiles and cheerios. The end of an evening.
A final shared anecdote. A cigarette’s tendril joins
the musky scent of worn perfume and boozy breath.
A high heel stumbles slightly, is caught then embraced.
Taxi doors slam. Engines rev and tail lights glow red,
taking revellers home.
Still so many thoughts of you,
what do I do?

Trolleys skid and slide, hiding and seeking amongst the aisles.
A ballet of metallic baskets laden and heavy
bob, swing and shuffle occasionally halting, deliberating,
adding more to the mound that could avalanche at any moment.
A small child takes her mother’s hand.
A torrent of thoughts of you,
what can I do?

A fleeting shadow in a bright, cool corridor.
A ghostly breeze catches the curtain, the fabric flutters.
Footsteps echo, a few then dozens of young faces appear lively
with chatter, some carefree, some pensive, but each engrossed.
A memory that never was.
subconsciously searching for you,
I always do.

Murmuring from a church chair. Infant cradled in strong arms.
Soft touch, cheek to cheek, soothing whispers, cherishing sleeping child.
Now standing, swaying, hip out, silently sharing one space.
Comforting and reassuring each other. Mother and child.
A frozen cry in my throat.
Igniting so many thoughts of you,
this, I so often do.