A Passge Sent Down Poem by chris dawson

Her slender form hid her strengths,
facets that I’d had drawn upon many a time,
a warmth, sensuality, soon sadly missed...
she gave to me at my wanting.
Four years, a time of life,
the time of my life,
a lifetime in another world...
that sadly always knew its course.
She must have known that too.
I didn't mention, should I have?
The bicycles and colours,
all those colours, colourful people,
the dreams and aspirations,
the sanctity, the tradition...
it goes on for ever.
But few can make it their life.
She knew that.
We had such times,
such fun,
she was there... my folly,
my nurse,
my lover,
my tutor,
my everything I suppose.
So few times now left to stroll the Cam,
no more pictures of her wearing only my scarf...
God there is so much for me beyond her comfort -
my destiny, surely she can see.
But I will always remember her,
those times...
Surely she knows that.
So what’s to explain?
I’ll kiss her now and take my leave.
My willow weeping.