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poems

Everywhere

Rebeccaa

I see him everywhere.
My reflection in the mirror
stares at me,
his face carved gently
into mine, a
perfect mixture between
my mother's face
and his.

I see him everywhere.
In the grass in our garden,
freshly mowed because
he remembered that
it needed cutting, the
huge, black headphones
singing to him as
he worked.

I see him everywhere.
In the sun as it smiles,
shining warmth
onto our sore shoulders
as it bounces through
the curtains and
beams onto our
frozen cheeks.

I see him.
In the cards of sympathy that
stand, crowded onto every
available space on the
windowsill; the
fireplace; the
dining room;
the kitchen.

I see him.
In the bunches of
flowers which colour
each room like paint -
kind offerings from
friends and family
who share
our grief.

I feel him.
In my heart;
in my bones;
in my soul.

I see him.
Everywhere.

For my Dad.
I miss you so much.
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