I thought it ended there, at the beginning.

The fragmented visits, the bounteous dull pearls, wisely gathering dust in the bottom drawer.

‘What for?’ I asked

‘Why?’ I cried

‘I wish I could go back again’ I lied

‘Because of life, because of life’ you said

At least I like to think so, rolling the words around in my head,

in your voice,

as if I could conjure you into my living room.

Then the words come tumbling forth

and the thoughts lock into place

I feel the warmth of your gaze

and the strength in your wise embrace

And I realise that this was the beginning, in the end.