Juliet and Sundays 1962.

Each Sunday that year 

we walked this narrow lane 

to the church 

and after the service 

we would go 

back down again 

and walk the road 

to the bus stop 

to get the bus back home 

I think of summer Sundays, 

the ancient church smell, 

the hymns sung, 

but most of all 

I remember you, 

our hands holding 

going down the lane, 

whispers words, 

those quick mouthful of kisses 

at the back of church 

before the walk back. 

I walked alone here 

last time 

fifty years later, 

a different summer, 

memories of you in the air, 

but cancer stole you away, 

but in memory 

you are there.