In memory

For no obvious reason
we found ourselves in bright mid-morning light
walking and talking in a mosaic of gravestones
and reading messages
from the living to the dead.

We spoke of life and death,
of rocks and writing,
of families and memories.
In the summer sun
grasshoppers sang
and butterfly ballets performed
in the gap
between graves.

You read the tombstones;
I listened to your observations,
loving the privilege of fatherhood
as I watch you move through
the summer days of childhood where
life still has space for the dreamer
and who you are is more important
than the hoops
through which you jump.

These captured moments I will keep,
etched in the air by words
that simply say

"In loving memory
of a well spent day".

(c) A McN