Annie

Annie

I wrote a poem years ago
about your laugh
how it rung in my ears
whenever I saw your frozen face in photographs.

I look at girls under twenty
and wonder how they’d fare
With the tragedy that was dealt us
With the sorrow that we shared. 

Today I think of you
and I think of us
and how we’ve grown.
I hold on to that smile,
that Nando’s ,
that drive we took from Odeon
to Tescos.

I look at girls under twenty
and wonder how they’d fare
With the tragedy that was dealt us
With the sorrow that we shared. 

I cut my hair, I had my heart broken again,
I’ve travelled and I’ve learned,
I’ve remembered and I’ve yearned
for a chance to tell you how it’s been,
What I’ve seen, who I’ve become. 


I look at girls under twenty
and wonder how they’d fare
With the tragedy that was dealt us
With the sorrow that we shared. 

I want to know if we’d still be close,
if every Thursday was sacred,
if you’d recognise your friend
among the throngs underground,
or whether we’d be strangers or worse than that
estranged. 


I look at girls under twenty
and wonder how they’d fare
With the tragedy that was dealt us
With the sorrow that we shared. 

I still love you: frozen in youth and time.
In all the friendships I’ve had since you,
your death and your life inspired them.
I know how to invest, to celebrate, to pull close.
I know that what’s broken should be repaired
because tomorrow is unexpected. 

On the Loneliness of Sunday

On the Loneliness of Sunday

My Berlin Guide

My Berlin Guide