Forget Me Not

 

“Be grateful for the light”,

my mum would say.

I remember that

as if it were only yesterday.

“Because, without it

the dark will never go away

and what’s hidden in it

will be inclined to stay”.

 

I had a son -

but I forget his name.

Yesterday,

someone like him came

to visit me -

but he was not the same,

because my son was

that boy in my picture frame.

 

He was young and blond.

My visitor, old and grey,

said he was him

and that he’d “like to stay,

to talk awhile,

If that would be OK?”

My Georgie boy

would only want to play.

 

Some days the world is bright -

the past aflame -

whilst others draw the shadows

and the blame.

For, despite my mothers

soft, comforting claim -

my memories lay in darkness,

coiled in shame.