There is no proof that I exist
beyond the mess I’ve made
of the house and garden,
and a few texts on my mobile phone.

I will leave this world lightly –
barely a fingerprint will remain.
Even children move on –
as if all those day in, day outs
were only a blink – and we missed them.

Outside this house is a world bigger
than we can imagine –
oceans, glaciers, volcanoes,
whole multitudes of loves
that this alone can only dream of.

Someone said better tidy up
the house, have a declutter –
less work for the next generation
when we finally shuffle off,

but look at this golden light
on the jasmine outside the window,
and see how the hedge that smells of feet
has grown to head height
and is finally flowering.

From The telling (Nine Arches Press, 2022)