Memories - Trudie Shannon

Our first kiss in a thrice built shed, wood smoke curling between us.
Our exchange of symbolic gifts.
The soft drift of a whispered story melding us together in the darkness.
Reunion in a bleak underground station, where strangers said "Never part".
Scrawling our small angel amidst pebbles and seaweed.
Rock hopping like misguided would be ballet dancers, chasing the tides.
Stone skimming to the earth’s end and still smiling.
And the tale of The Little Prince that wound around us
Binding us together in invisible glue.
You do not remember our first kiss
But if I remind you, perhaps you will glimpse our yesterdays
And be like Pooh bear who taught us that the uncarved block
Is as beautiful in history as it is in the present.

Trudie Shannon