The Sparrows Sing
Smitten by your freckled face and slender form
but never fooled by that innocent facade,
I recognised a feisty female lurked, unafraid
to fight the girls encroaching on your territory.
You were a flirt, wooed by a father and son
– the junior we nicknamed Toy Boy.
Mesmerised by their dancing and seductive
love bites, you soon became a mother.
Life’s tree is now uprooted, your family foliage
a profusion of blooms. Toy Boy has moved
into your vacant flat, while you probably romp
with his father, your first love, in paradise.
Shrouded in tissue paper, your frail body is laid
in a cardboard coffin. Beneath the mock orange,
I dig deep, where worms and woodlice prepared
the soil to receive you. Nearby two sparrows sing;
I hear a lament for you, Lizzie Lulu –
Leopard Gecko.
Found You on Facebook
That college disco, the group sang
Let’s Dance. A feather-touch
on my shoulder and husky whisper
‘Dance with me?’ You were a sandy haired
Paul McCartney, your dark suit
enhanced with a narrow neon tie.
Can’t Take my Eyes off You. We jived
twisted, until the music slowed
- Sealed with a Kiss.
You fed me Black Magic, romance
only murmured because you were not free.
The faded chocolate box still hides
your letters at the back of my wardrobe.
Now I struggle, to recognise any feature,
fifty years have fuzzed details of your face.
Beatle style is side brushed now, greying,
and The way you look tonight -
is the image of my late grandpa.
Yet, you still have that captivating smile
that sets butterflies loose inside my ribcage –
like it’s only Yesterday.
My finger hovers over friend request –
will you remember or even recognise me?
Perhaps it’s best to Let it Be.
Flights, Issue Nine, June 2023
Flight of the dragonfly 