Sunflowers.

After we had made love for the first time
The old gypsy women wrapped you in a thick blanket
To keep you warm, there being no fire in the room,
And heat thought of as necessary
To guarantee conception.

I was barred from hugging you close for most of that night,
And lay quite still at the edge of the bed weeping
While you slept soundly, snug in your nest of wool,
A safe calm world
Sacred to you alone.

For the rest of that year we rarely saw each other,
And then one morning came a call from the hospital
That sent me dashing out into the rain.
Your smile was radiant as a garden filled with sunflowers
When I walked quietly into the ward.

Holding our new born child while a nurse taught you to breast feed
Behind a white curtain, shut tight to hide our fears,
Helped me to blank from my mind those many nights
When I walked, without friends, through the empty streets
Calling out your name.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
October 29th. - 30th. - 31st. 2014.