Not today.

Even when the Isar

rolls so cool and deep

and I could wade and

wade ’til sleep.

 

Not today.

When I have the tablets

in a drawer

in a box

winking chalkily at me.

 

Not today.

When the church tower soars

and it’s bells toll out

a seductive beat

for me to fly to.

 

Not today.

for me the oven,

the blade and bath.

I shall not meet

Sylvia by God’s

own hearth,

 

Today,

I leave a legacy

of love, of life,

not regret and guilt

for my bairns to

doubt.