‌Her bench

Our party stretched out ambled the path dog trod dozy and hot

twenty or more of us daisy strung together cousins, fathers, neighbours, sisters, children buzzing with light chats and field flies.

He leads us in his shuffling suit and stick Hush-puppy cork sandals and M&S

by the fields and up the hill to her bench where we pause in awkward clumps

he sits first, alone now, looking through a view she knew best, to her.

Back past to pictures, framed here Kodak green, yellow with time, young

sprung with straw and sun and tea in cups in the garden she poured the years here and there with

trips to Bromley sometimes by train

treats like coffee in Costa or new navy slacks

going to the sea or a cake or a library book or a record of singing. She who loved this place.

We took turn to perch our flesh summer dressed On her bench

Then we left her with him.

October 26, 2014