poem for colin

Colin's lounge at 'Paddock End', Witton near Norwich

Colin's keyboard...

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Nobody is playing his keyboard,
But a hazy drift of notes hums with the garden bees
And wind through branches
A small hovering of eulogies.
I remember the lasting softness of his voice
And his house:
The country sunlight
That wanders through the windows is his kin,
Shakes hands with him,
And he is wrapped in birdsong
And still leaves gentle, thin shadows on the lawn.

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by Eleanor Sanders