stevieqgray

Also for Sarah Bruce - 06.08.1915 - 10.10.10


Youre away now, Sarah Bruce.
The party had gotten tired,
so you left.
Theres no one here
could hold that against you.

Rest easy, hen.
The chaos and the clamour
are fading out behind you:
all that noisy, needless carry-on
of us,
selfish and frightened,
holding on
too tightly.
-- Were sorry.
-- We only did it because we love you.

Escape now,
as we learn this tender lesson
in letting go,
and a last brief flare
of Autumn sunlight
glints gold off the hard, polished outsides
of conkers,
gilds spiders webs
spun between branches,
burns away
the clinging, confusing fog
this one last time,
and blazes itself out.
Here is your exit:
washed through with a light
as warm and golden
as the toffee wrappers Id find
balled in my pockets
after visiting you.

Sarah McStravick, Sissy Muirhead, Mrs Bruce,
mother, grandmother,
and everyone else youve been
in the ninety-five years
you owned,
from the cradle of the Clyde
to the banks of the Mersey,
to the streets above the Sherbourne,
to the ebbing tide of this final river:

You kept us watching.
You kept us laughing.
You kept us guessing.

But we know that youre tired.
Youve every right.
We thought those bright blue diamond eyes
would sparkle and smile forever,
but its time for you
to prove us wrong.
Just sleep now, my darling.
We have already kept you too long.

Youre away now, Sarah Bruce,
and the wind whispers cold songs
about the passing time,
and we walk away,
slowly, sombrely,
wading deep through the fallen leaves
that have gathered,
unnoticed,
around our shuffling, earthbound feet.