My mum had a catastrophic addiction. She died in November 2011.
The morning came cold and clear
ice had crept under my door.
My old dog lay down by the wall, tired out.
I walked without you, without
your hands, your laughs, your yellow scarfs,
red boots, your kites, your magic tricks.
The stones on the beach clacked and clicked.
I slipped off my winter shoes and socks,
stepped into the water, over the rocks,
seaweed slopping against my skin
soft and green. When I opened my eyes
the sand, the shells, the stones all shone
and there you three were,
as bright as the sun,
riding seahorses.
You waved at me and though I knew I could not run
I said I tried to love Then you were gone
but my old dog was by my side
young again.
sophie wellstood 