Others

She sits on her Grandfather's shoulders.
A lookout on the turret of a castle.
Lie low and let her be.
A cool drop of rain that falls
behind your collar
brings discomfort and will distract you.
She is trapped now.
Old man's beard in the hedgerow
and you must let her stay there,
struggling for a while, fragile and cold.
Let bitter, black coffee in between your teeth
warm your mouth and stop the slumber.

You will return to her alone.
Make-up, like blackberry juice stains her lips.
Her dark, warm hair made damp by your old, isolated tears.
A Grandfather’s brow curdled by time.
Misguided crease in your forehead.
You are now but a blank reflection in the mirror.