Quiet

It's quiet
this Saturday
the wind rustles
through the branches

Little moves
ashore or at sea
the clouds insouciantly
drift by overhead

The day will come
in weather fair or foul
that the silence will not
be broken again

Whether I'll be here or not
it matters not
A presence is always
missed when absent

A wave

Rolling ashore
languidly
thundering
incessantly

A wave
born of
distant storms
long since gone

Under the pale
northern skies
where the ships
of cloud sail aloft

It carries ashore
memories
of yesteryear
long since gone

Are you still there
in the sound of the waves
in the voice of the wind
those, we do miss?

Sophia (21)

I sometimes still think
of the Window on the West
as I'm reminded
of your voice

You visit me
from time to time
as I'm reminded
of your serene smile

I sometimes still think
of the roadside house
of your songs in Lochmaddy
and your happiness

I once waved good bye
in the midst of the night
and you waved back,
almost for me to return

It's been long years
since our last farewell
that April evening
in North Uist

You are missed
by many, also me,
after you quietly swam away
from Berneray

Your little companion
still awaiting your return
looks out at night
for your familiar form

I sometimes still think
of the Window on the West
the window on you
the queen of dancing, singing and joy

Outlook

The great open skies
opened up each morning
whether to sunshine
or to teeming rain

The wind whispered
or roared
The boats came in
and went out

Dusk is now settling
over the low hills beyond
and the lights flicker on
in their familiar places

As cars whizz by
their lights sweep the wall
if and when
they turn the corner

I can see now
more clearly each day
with the black presence
which way you'll be heading

I often think back
to those sunsplashed days out
or sometimes as the rain came down
showing each other a special place

The bond remains strong
however informal
but I can see plainly
what way it will go

Maybe one more season
of welcoming them all
from all corners of this earth
I really hope it can be so

If I can be there
for that one season
I'd be privileged
If it could be

Sophia (20)

The road with no return
was trodden by you
three months ago
almost to the hour

It is not a tarred road
with signs and lights
or a track that leads
through the fields

You left behind
what you would
otherwise
never have abandoned

As you swam away
on the midnight tide
we were not aware
asleep under the stars

We found you asleep,
gone,
but left behind
memories and love

At the Window on the West
your companion will wait
until the time comes
for you to meet her again

I still hear your voice
and I know you are near
We shall carry on
and take you with us

In memory of Donna

Ground Hog Day, Donna - but Phil's but a rodent.
It's winter, but the sun never sets where you're at now.
The snow glistens, but your light will forever shine
Missing your cheeky cheer, but you're not really gone.