I wish you were here; it’s not the same without you.
The arterial path is still here, with its veins of sheep tracks
Criss-crossing the ankle-high purple carpet of heather
I am not as sure footed as you on the loosened earth,
With protruding rocks, lying in quiet ambush, for my feet
The terrain for you was effortless: you were born for this.
The hill still rises steeply, its scents intoxicating; to me a
Gentle, caressing aroma, to you, they assaulted your nose,
Causing you to run helter-skelter; tongue lolling; investigating
Returning happily once solved, to my outstretched hand
To me the questions remained unanswered and bewildering.
It was your world. I miss you; my hand now only meeting air.
My breathing becomes rapid and my chest tightens, as
I reach the last ascent; but not you; your heart beat,
Remained steady and constant; you were bred for this.
Tail swishing; you would wait for me to catch up
It was a game we played. The memory causes me to smile.
Reaching the top, I am rewarded by a 360° view, as vast
As the 360° devotion you opened out to me. The Moray Firth,
Speyside, the moorland of Braemar and the coast of the North Sea
We’d been to them all together, when everything was fresh and new.
It’s not the same without you, I wish you were here.
Following tradition, I place a loose rock upon the cairn
This year, I choose a second one for you. Side by side,
In obedience; like our bond unbreakable.
Descending the hill, I feel I am leaving you
Further and further behind and the tears fall.
As I click the gate shut, from whence I started
I say goodbye to an old friend, for I shall never
Climb that hill again.