First Kiss, Last Breath … Jan Moran Neil
Sunny morning,
seven fourteen … precise,
term-time schoolboy
snakes her hedge,
strides her path,
heartbeats change pace,
posting oh so delicate
and eternal message
– Be mine, Valentine –
– For his future she will be forgotten,
– but for now –
sixteen kisses, a coach to catch,
chemistry coursework in his bag,
chemistry radical in his heart.
Just as
red rose intentions
fall to the floor
– a dog barks
and
a million miles away
on his miscellaneous day
a heartbeat slows,
amaryllis dies,
seven fourteen … precise.
A door opens …
warm lips meet …
a bird of passage streaks the sky
a phone rings.
For Muriel – 14/2/2001
Your moment in time finds favour. Like a clear sky on a cold day there is joy in simplicity. Condensing vapour marking each breath as the delight of living in the moment. Punctuating time with proof of life.