Unseen

 

you cried when we left the house where you were born

not for friends left behind

not for lost secret places in the garden

not for the bedroom where soft pencil lines

marked your growing

 

you cried for the purple tiger who lived on the roof

afraid he’d get wet if it rained

sure the new people

unaware of their tenant

wouldn’t think to bring him inside

 

 I tried to assure you

 he would come with us to the new house

was already loping behind the car

soft wind rippling his violet fur

 

you looked at me sadly and explained

the roof was his home and anyway

purple tigers weren’t allowed in Wales

and so it was over

tears dried you never spoke of him again

found new friends

a pink dog

Lancelot

and a dwarf whose name I forget

but whose strength and sword protected you

when my love could not

 

an actor now, paid to pretend

you laugh when I worry the purple tiger

might be still on the roof

shivering

rain streaked

lonely

cold

 

you say you don’t remember

but I wonder if you saw in his eyes

the homeless man you talk to because no one else does

in his hunched form

the rag wrapped woman you offer food

because she has none

 

you know now tigers are not purple

time and rain washed his colour away

but you cared then as you care now

for those no one else can see