Ethereal as the breeze you are –
were. You are gone now,
but were you ever here?
I have nothing physical,
no artefact to lay my hands on,
even the pocket-watch is hearsay,
passed to me the day after.
‘It was his father’s’.
Tonight Bjorn is barkeep over at dVerse, and is inviting us to write a Quadrille (a poem of 44 words), incorporating the word ‘breeze’ in the body of the poem.
I have no idea why ‘breeze’ inspired me to write this memory – for that’s what it is, and that is the pocket-watch above. Bizarrely the time it stopped working at (many years ago, I assume) is the time in the evening that my dad died.
Of course, you can be much more upbeat, sensual, comedic in your response – the choice is all yours! Please do take part though – it’s a great crowd over there!