The wet-heavy football in the shrubbery all these summers
and winters: houses change hands.
There are griefs.
The posters who were never as important after adolescence,
The teachers unloved into legend by time's dictatorship,
The kitten fated for the car,
A rainbow's colours washed out of memory,
The oldness and newness of songs,
What surprise is;
Something to turn us inside out,
And stretch us closer to our first and final breaths,
An adult hand wrapped around a swivel globe,
Griefs are there and then here.
A regretted missed call, a to-do list,
Written, but thy will never be done.