Lost

I wake to an echo,
catch her last hiccupping giggle
gurgling into the morning milieu.

My dreams had been all sunbeams
dancing through her flaxen hair,
blue eyes a crinkle, audacious,
seeking to be chased around the pear tree
that once was a hospital for her dolls
when she wanted to be still.

Life is still now,
her eyes no longer flash blue fire
only a faded grey;
hair lank from lack of care.

Pear tree forgotten,
dolls voices frozen
no more crying mama, mama
as they were constantly turned and tucked in
by inept yet tender infant hands.

All suspended, forlorn; lost
in a vanquished imagination.

Now it’s she who is ill,
restrained.

No pretend hospital this,
aromatic with pear blossom
alive with the music of bees
buzzing through balmy air;
but a bizarre place with an odour of despair.

2008