Poems by Ann D. Stevenson

Together for over fifty years,
times of laughter and of tears.
I fell in love with all his charms,
could dance forever in his arms.

Except he didn't dance.

He preferred to ride a horse
I'd only ride if I was forced.
He loved dogs - I must confess
I thought they made a lot of mess.

We always had a dog.

I love people and talking,
he would rather be walking.
I like to paint and write,
he felt that was alright.

But he would rather read.

He liked to ski,
that was not for me.
I like to shop,
he definitely did not.

We both had fun in the sun.

It was not a perfect match,
but he was quite a catch,
and now that he is here no more
I feel stranded on an empty shore.

Half of me has gone.

(He used to wind them
once a week.)

A dark oak clock
on the mantlepiece
stands bleak
above an empty grate
once a source
of warmth and light.

There is a slight glow
from the clock
on his desk
made of gilded brass
a farewell gift
from his final post.

The grandfather clock
a valued antique
stands silent in the hall
no further chimes
no pendulum swings
hands don't move any more.

The only sound left
is the faintest tick
from a well-worn watch
with its military band
a familiar fixture on his wrist
I now hold it in my hand.

A shadow walks beside me 
in the rising rays
of the sun
I turn a corner
the shadow has gone
I walk on
alone.

Up in the hills
on a well-worn track
I see mists begin to lift
from calm seas
and beloved shores
we had known
before.

I breathe in aromas
of healing herbs
as they waft
and linger on
a reminder of how
his scent remained
long after he had gone.

I feel the warmth
of familiar paths
chirrups of crickets
begin to rise
a butterfly emerges
into the light
spreads its wings
and flies.