The Lake and the Isle
Tomorrow I’ll go home for the last time.
Unanswered memories will I have there:
of games I played, books I read, trees I climbed;
of flint, creosote, and Parker Knoll armchairs.
For I enjoyed some peace there: peace contained
in Airfix planes; fresh and frozen blackberries;
and a barefooted bee-sting in the garden
created by the two I love, and who loved me.
Tomorrow, van and man on hand, I’ll
empty the place I’ve known for fifty years.
A sideboard, a table, and a box of figurines will
be exchanged for all that’s disappeared.