Poems by Ann D. Stevenson

It was not the sight of a night sky
bejewelled with numerous stars,
nor the whisperings from the waves.

It was the look in his eyes,
taste of salt on his lips,
when I received that first kiss.

It was not the rippled moonlit path
beguiling us into the sea,
nor the glow of a smouldering fire.

It was the warmth of his arms
and his talk that charmed
it was that - that stayed with me.

(The book I've been reading rests on my knee,
you sleep.)                        (Wendy Cope)

I am trying to read, I cannot sleep,
remembering.
I want to hold you close, when you keep
remembering.
You sleep now in the lamp's soft glow.

You woke me earlier shouting 'no',
remembering
that bomb going off, a lethal mine,
remembering
splattered bodies, shattered minds.

Men blown to bits before your eyes,
remembering
that was how your best friend died,
remembering
how you fought so hard for peace.

Some of us will never cease
remembering.