John Mole

Annie’s Fish

issue 21 February 2015

It hangs, a mobile
in the stairwell,
always in motion
however slight.

Each silver scale
as it sparkles there
a neighbourly lodestar
guiding us home

to where we shall meet
for ever in friendship
beyond the darkness
of your loss.

Nothing you made
that did not shine,
nothing you dreamed
can leave us now.

And so we give thanks
for this precious gift
as it swims through the air
to the sound of your laughter.

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