Memories Of Lucinda Poem by John Duffy

(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 crawl 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 once lost

A long time ago
As white as snow
But now grey

It shines and gleams
As Yesterday
Crawls up 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
My only love

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 and 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 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