You walked beside mesome forty years or more,my right-hand woman,leaving footprints on the pavements,in the sand, in my home. You saw my babies born,and die,
When the music stops there is silence.The fandango of support ceases, the front door shuts,the car doors close, the assembled crowd of wellwishers leaves.You are
You were 26 years old,witty, handsome.You worked for a fashion brandbehind the Royal Academy,relished a young man’s London life. After I heard the news I
In a Chelsea restaurantthe young boy sits stiffly,school blazer straight-backed,hands flat on flannel grey,darting glances at his father,whose fingertip commandmesmerises waiters to his side. Father
Would it add up to several years,that waiting for one’s other half?“I’ll just be five minutes” raises fearsthat he hasn’t even got into the bath.