pre-requiem

in the kitchen the sound
of a cup on a saucer
caught my ear
but the colour of the tea was too dark
he wouldn’t drink it that way

in the garden I noted
the paving stone sat proud on an angle
and it might have been a sign
of his passing
but I recall that he set them all straight

the shirts on their hangers
draped in the wardrobe
are true
rich reds and blue shades
as warm a mark as I have located so far

he may have been overlong
in the bathroom
and he might have made me late for the train

it could have been him
trying to make me laugh
but if it was
I didn’t hear him

it felt like his foot
that I trod on in the yard
where he trailed too close behind
without my knowing

and perhaps it was him
but he looked so far gone
I didn’t believe
what I was seeing

and I meant to check the album
to compare with a picture
but the photos were all negative images
long thrown away

peering at the spaces
I can not quite imagine what he looked like
but I can see the shape of somebody
who has gone

if I knock on the wood
will he answer the call
one knock for yes
or OK

but in the silence before
and the silence now still
there’s no knock at all

he is gone

I hardly saw him

---

© Frank Prem, 2009