For my Daughter Paris-Ilana – who would have been 8 years old on the 6th August ❤
Cannot do significant dates.
Only patterns, numbers and made up fates.
See only two shades of colour.
That of nature in all it’s prime,
And that of it’s tempo, rhythm and rhyme.
The world has turned in ninety-six.
Each chapter. One that I. Can’t fix.
Of ribbons and curls.
Not a day in ninety-six have I.
Not thought of a time with you.
As the waves kiss my feet,
And raindrops cool my cheek,
I breath deeply and sigh,
For it is only you.
Ninety-six and still aches.
Ninety-six and you’d be eight.
Ninety-six and now you fly.