All Your Days

For my cousin, Suzy Barratt


Not you, but us

moving out of the harbour.

Cold hands haul knots and rope,

we shout farewell and wave and weep

for this day. The horizon will not return us and you will

sleep without dreaming of boats or storms or summer clouds.


Not you, but us

becoming mimes, charades,

our voices gone.  Your son

a blur of ladybirds and tricks, his hair

a cloak on wizard’s shoulders, he’s away

backwards through your garden.   Stop.   Rewind, rewind


this day. Bring the boat safely in, our faces raw and wet with salt and rage,

our nets alive with your days to give back to you: all your days, all your days.




About sophiewellstood

Teacher and writer, sometimes the other way around. Some of my writing is traditionally published and in bookshops, as well as online. I've put some poems for younger people / lapsed adults here, and some proper swearing. I hope you enjoy.
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