Memories of Lucinda

(A lone voice whispers)

There's a hidden secret room I go to 

In my cathedral of dreams

Whenever I sleep

Where a white candle burns

In The Great In-Between 

As Yesterday lives wild 

Fed on memories and crawls up and down 

The broken walls

While favourite ones 

Stand up tall

And in amongst the grey clutches of Yesterday 

There in the middle

Amongst the cobwebs and ivy

The weeds and bits of creeping moss

Is my old shrine 

To all I've lost

A long time ago 

That shrine once as white as snow

But now grey

It shines and gleams

With mystical glee

As Yesterday 

Crawls up and down the walls

Like a banshee 

Wearing a black shawl

In its centre

Made of now dull silver

On its table

Is a black and white picture left by Yesterday 

For me to remember

The only love who kept me stable 

Lost in December 

And as I pause

And Yesterday 

Feeding on memories 

Stop's climbing the walls

I hear her sweet husky voice over the top of my beating heart

It breaches the weed filled nooks and crannies

Cools my fast flowing bloodstream 

       

Then in that moment climbing through the atoms of that sparse air

Comes her perfume drifting 

From somewhere 

 

A much loved fragrance from the past

Filled with sweet moments as I remember I prayed would last

Then Yesterday moves 

And the scent is gone

The voice disappears

And in that room of no living creature 

Where I sometimes appear

To remember 

Yesterday's memories 

Which I hold dear

That white candle

in its centre

On that table

 

Burns brighter each year

On the 28 of December 

When I return to remember 

My beloved Lucinda 

Who I lost

One fatal day in winter

(C)

Copyright John Duffy