Last Instructions

Before I leave

hold my hand and whisper softly

of the summery scent of sweet peas,

the heady aroma of spiced lilies,

the fragrance of pine

after a Highland shower.

Speak to me of spring

when raindrops

fall upon the Wear,*

Tell me how I once again

gaze from the bridge

spellbound by the concentric circles

they paint.

Murmur gently

but let me dream

of fragrances yet to be named –

of sunbeams on frozen ice

like a myriad of stars

dancing and leaping for joy.

Now loosen your hold, my love

and let me go,

for my Lord has come.

He is taking my hand

to lead me home.


*Wear – the River Wear (pronounced Weer) in England

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