margaret
you live in my memories
made over early mornings
of half cut grapes in cornflakes,
fingertips stained raspberry
freshly picked, homegrown
sat on our own, side by side
the coconut windchimes
in the conservatory, talking
until the bottom of teacups.
i think about how you'd smile
from the summerhouse
as i'd run around the apple tree,
the breeze down at the beach
the old pier, donkey rides, 2p machines
buttons, threads and lace, collections
of clip on earrings, ceramic ducks
and butter tubs for tupperware.
i remember you in cornflower blue
and in the sound you used to make
at even the mention of chocolate,
as if it were a word you could taste.
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