Blood-Link (Poetry)

17th June 2012
I have kept her alive —
I talk to her daily —
that shadow half-seen by the window.

The wind in her voice
her laugh in the tick-tocking clock
and the sweet-little-girl of her lingers.

She moves room to room —
trails after me, sighing
the rustle of fabric, the talc-scented waft I remember.

A hair in a book
trapped so long on a page
she once read — a momento of childhood.

The flesh of her gone
but echoes of dust gather round me —
I listen, grown patient for signs that give comfort.

She stays close by my ear
like a pulse rising high
when the blood-link pulls suddenly tighter.