The Whirlitzer, on Remembrance Sunday, 2014.

By 7th January 2015December 9th, 2019No Comments

Round and round, the horses go, dizzily, breathlessly, taking me with them,
Sometimes fast, sometimes slow, sometimes high, sometimes low.
The barrel-organ music plays a jolly tune, but a discordant sound to my ears.
I step down from off the merry-go-round and sit, on the wooden bench beside your
grave in the quiet, country churchyard.
The Autumn sunshine warms my face and, pondering the pace of life,
I feel close to you again in this peaceful place.
A late foraging bee passes by in front of me,
A solitary bird flies across the blue and cloudless sky.
Tears well up, filling my eyes,
and a light breeze teases my hair.
I miss you so.
I think of what might have been had you lived and what is, instead.
I think of the poppies in London, blood-red and remember, and wonder,
Have I the courage to climb back on the merry-go-round again,
round and round, up and down, high and low, fast and slow?

Angela Nightingale

Author Angela Nightingale

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