After The Phone Rang

The phone rang

like a cracked bell in winter,

splitting the moment into before,

and after.

I was holding a cup of hot water

steam rising like a small ghost

when that ordinary day halted

because you’d run on ahead…

You were always faster than me;

outpacing gravity,

diving deep blue seas

and being you, inimitably!

Now, in gasps of silence

I find you in my sleep.

In songs and street names.

In deep and happy memories

of white houses

and orange rivers

and scamming tuppenny phone-boxes.

Your mischief was infectious;

fridge raided midnight snacks

scoffed beneath the candy-stripe sheets of top bunk land

while listening to the saga

of Good old ‘Mrs No School’.

A reference only we will understand.

Dad jokes galore

factor high on the score

of things to remember,

and smile.

And not all the time,

but just once in a while,

I’ll picture you laughing

and riding your go-cart

down the concrete steps

of Gelli Crug.

But for now I’ll cradle your absence

in small, sharp pieces and hope that heaven is a place.

I hope it has scuba,

and herpetology

and people who appreciate your wit.

If it isn’t,

we shall not worry.

For we will find you easily

in every place that love looks.