poem for colin

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

Colin's keyboard...


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.


by Eleanor Sanders