September 2016

I remember looking down at you as you lay there, afraid to touch your skin, knowing you would be colder than I’ve ever known you, knowing the reality would take me then.

Heather

We came to your grave on Christmas Day, complained about the rain and placed a wreath by the heather that was growing at your feet, a tribute to you, a memorial.

Overgrown

As a child I remember barbecues in my grandparents’ garden, an alcove by the greenhouse, sheltered by the trees. I remember labour in the sun, my grandfather’s strength, my grandmother’s kindness. Their garden… Continue reading →