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The person this was written for has long ago gone out of my life. Now I feel I can make it public. I hope you enjoy. :-)

THE SWANS AT WORCESTOR

Me_cafe_rougeby Jake Murray06 Oct 2014

THE SWANS AT WORCESTER

In the photographs
The colour that strikes you is blue;
Blue the sky, the winter light, the fading sun,
Blue the streets, the stones,
The buildings; blue the restaurants,
Blue the windows.
You showed me places
From the ages, the Glover's Needle,
Spire standing empty surrounded
By trees, the rivers, shops
Where you had worked, places
You had laughed and cried,
But most of all the swans
Standing like a miracle
By the river as the water flowed,
Lifting the failing light
Into magic.

You were showing me
Places that were important to you,
Places which had played their part
In your life, sorrow and pain,
Happiness and pride.
You took me to the Cathedral,
Centuries old, stood in the sunset,
Stone changing colours as the light shifted,
Music and stained glass stretching above us.,
Visions of knights and monks and angels
Made us stop and take note,
Sky streaming like dreams
Through images written on wind.

Now time has passed
And you are elsewhere,
Gone to other experiences,
Happy, freer, I hope,
I look at these photographs
And am struck by the colour of blue,
The cold gaze of that winter day, feel the slow
Beauty of you, your soul
Worn as it was then like a garment
Of all that had passed between us.
But most of all is the memory of
You by the swans of Worcester
Stood by the river,
Watching them arch and chatter,
Lost in a moment of miracles in water,
Transformed by the lowering sun.