Five years
and five months
and one day
in Heaven
and you are still looking after me.
My stapler jammed
and I used your last hoofpick
which I keep in my bedside drawer
(and your blue blanket on the bed on the other side of me –
you looked so good in blue... but then
you would have looked so good in any colour –
funny thing, your last hoofpick’s handle was painted blue too)
to unjam it.
There are some who will understand, I know.
(29 September 2007)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem