Curtains of soft grey mist
and rainblack road
and fresh green hills and fields -
the silence shouts
and you, my children,
are again with me
in Vernon, the Volkswagen Variant,
voices bubbling
and all of us
lifted into a rain-excitement
bathed in an unconscious happiness
untinged with pain,
and the memory
crumples me.
(17 December 2005)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem