A Pattern of Veils. (Revised).

Soft delicate colours.

December rain drifting through greenery.

Droplets glistening on your skin
Reflect the bright face of the moon
Observed floating above a sheen of clouds.
Faults in the glass distort the imagery,
Trees and houses outside our bedroom window
Could be the fleeting shadows of an underwater city.

I am sure of few things, sometimes only your smile,

The touch of your hand in the silvery dark.

                                *

I wake up with a start,
You are not here beside me.

I walk from room to room in a somnambulist daze.
The coats are all dusty. The hats have turned grey on the hangers.

You are nowhere to be found.

I was sure you were with me all through the frosty night:

I can still feel the warmth of you hair on my face and my fingers;
Remember the light in your eyes when we made love.

                                 *

Soft, delicate colours.

December rain drifting through greenery.

I walk out into the garden to look for the last of the roses.

In a month or two you should be back here with me,
(Your aunt has informed me you have a date on your calendar.
Your passport in order. Your freedom to travel permitted).
But this endless waiting distorts time. The kitchen clock ticks slowly.
It is only five years, but it feels more like one hundred.

The morning rain cold on my bare skin.
The wind is stinging my cheek bone.

I turn to the north and shout out loud your name.

This garden is dappled with a patina of memories.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
Sketched 14th. - 29th. August 2018.
Reimagined and completed 30th. December 2019.
For Ivy, dreaming of a happy and settled New Year