(In memory of Claire Prosser)
We hold true to your joy of being,
your heartache and your soul.
We return, each, to the last time
we met, the last time you smiled
that ready smile, then the time
before that, and that … We recall the
hours we shared and those that were
still to come, and mull the years to come
unshared, over bridges that we crossed,
along streets that chime unchanged,
– all, henceforth, haunted by your shade.
Memory must suffice, the store
in which to treasure your timeline.
It is what we cleave to now –
friend after friend after friend …
Published by permission of author and poet, James Ballantyne.