How Are We This April Day
Snow laden bright skies
Nip in the air
Like the day we took our vows
In the little chapel at the foot
Of Muckish Mound
White with snowdrops and Daffodils
Bitter- sweet memories I sigh
We sit now Side by side him and I
Will he, like me be
Remembering
That day we took our vows
His eyes are dull but I remember still
His smile when I walked up the aisle
Alone
My father wouldn’t come
Not to marry him – he thundered
Children bridged the gap
He never forgave my putting you in front of him.
“How are we this April day?”A cheery nurse says
That’s good,” she smiles
Anticipating our mute reply
Moving on not listening
Why would she wait?
Faceless old people in high backseats
It doesn’t show. The life we shared.
Him and I. Except for a few
Photographs faded to grey.
They don’t show the dreams we let go
Our regrets
What we’d do different. If we lived
Our live again. Him and I
Would we marry? Have our Kids?
It’s hard to tell. Living together
Was called sin in our day
But maybe I would try it now
With him
Tomorrow is nurse’s day to wed
She has other things in her head
She doesn’t see an old couple
Clasping hands
Half asleep – dreaming –
Memories of their life, their plans
Him whispering in my ear
Taking my wrinkled hand He leads the way
To the yellow and white daffodil display
He fumbles one behind my ear
“I knew you’d come that day,” he says quietly.
Nurse smiles indulgently
Thinking of her on wedding day
50 years from now she may be
In our chairs. Some fresh faced nurse
will glibly say
“How are we this April Day?”
And expect no reply from the voiceless pair.
Gemma Hill Writeyou Writeme 