Dearly

The lost years are yellow
Lens flares and wicker
Postcards of dancers in Spain

Sand in the bathroom
Warm terracotta
No recollection of rain

Do I misremember
A corduroy sofa
As brown as the moles on your arm?

Sunburnt sienna
And oxidised copper
The colours discovered by harm

Dearly
Sincerely
Forgetfully yours

Dearly
Sincerely
Forgetfully yours

If I wrote a letter
Addressed to the future
I’d leave out our troubles and tears
I’d blanch it in sunlight
And love’s anaesthetic
And leave it to weather with years

The road out of chaos
Is there and then it isn’t
And clarity sharpens and blurs
I want to believe it
I really want to believe it
The story that memory prefers

Dearly
Sincerely
Forgetfully yours

Dearly
Sincerely
Forgetfully yours