Before You Go

Before you go, if go you might

Then take with you the dog lead there

For I have need no more to share

Those Autumn walks, when wrapped in mist

You took my frozen fingers once and kissed

And warmed them with your breath; and far

Above us in the darkening sky, a vapour trail; a star.

And below, us three; you, the dog and me

Inseparable, as it had seemed to be.

So take Autumn, star, take mist and sky

And vapour trails and I’ll try

To live without them, in full or part

My fingers frozen then… but now, my heart.

I think you’ll go... I think you might.

Before you go, and go you could

Take from my mind’s eye, lest I reminisce,

The sight of starlings and their dissonance;

Mahonia’s indigo dusted berries in bunches hung

And from them drops of purple juice had sprung;

Berries in massive bunches weighted down.

You voiced one word. I saw you frown,

Concerned… For mid the tumult and the squabbling

The starlings, greedy beaks all gobbling

A tiny wren set up her home in one lone bough

Protected by the sharp and cruel foliage now.

Take from my mind hot morning sunlight on York stone.

Let me forget your love, your gentle look, your tone.

Perhaps you’ll go. I think you could.

                                            Before you go, if go you could,

                                        Remove the door bell from my door;

                                          The door; the step; that I no more

                                    May see it empty, where once you stood.

                           Close down all worldly contact; close down for good

                                        And hush the jangling of my phone

                                      And still the Soprano’s plangent tone

                                               In Verdi’s final Libera Me,

                                          For you and I had wept one day

                                  At its poignant charm. Close my ears that I

                                     Should hear no more a sound, and try

                                           To still the songs of birds; of rain;

                                     For I’ll not hear your sweet voice again.

                                             Before you go, do this for me.

Before you go, and go you shall,

Please take my bed from out my room.

First turn down the covers, then with broom,

Sweep out all memories that I recall

Of sunlight dappled on the wall.

And curtains moving in the breeze

With silhouetted horse chestnut trees.

Take how it was to wake beside

You, gently sleeping by my side.

Remove the sunlight, and the room,

Curtains; dappled light; replace with gloom.

Remove each; not some, but all.

I’ll turn my face towards the wall

Before you go, I know you shall.

Before you go, if go you must

    Take one last look, and mark this well

        A room, a slip of paradise, now hell;

            Two coffee cups, a slice of toast;

                And this the image that pains me most

                    You, gently breathing by my side.

                        And close my eyes and feel beside

                             The pillows where you laid your head.

                                   Replace with stones or boards instead

                                         For I have neither rest nor ease

                                               And in my pain, blot out all these

                                                      For I have nothing but my love;

                                                             This emptiness is all I have.

                                                                       Before you go, if go you must.

                                             Before you go, and go you will

                                        Remove my heart from out my chest

                                           It beats for none else, so let it rest.

                                               If not for you, then bid it sleep.

                                            My eyes are useless but to weep,

                                            Where once their primary delight

                                             Was drinking in the lovely sight

                                Of you. So take my eyes, my breath, my ears,

                                            My mouth, my memory, my fears;

                                                My aspirations and delights

                                           Box them; with ribbon; tie them tight.

                                Then when I am distracted, and to spare me pain

                                Discard them then for I’ve no need of them again.

                                             Before you go… I think you have.