For Michael

I dreamed again

of the last time I saw you,

that summer’s afternoon long ago.

You had grown since you last wore

those trousers, too short now.

Hair cut to reveal fine features,

your plump child’s face gone.

You were a heartbreaker.


As you stood

watching the boats,

sky blue eyes reflecting

on a world that wasn’t yours,

I saw why Mother loved you more.

Not because you were her only boy

but because you were fair and beautiful

and everything we were not.


I knew then that I loved you too

and couldn’t wait for you to come home.

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