No More Yielding

The sound of home is in your laugh

in your handprints on my arm

in the way your head rests on train windows

eyes drifting in and out of slumber

through staggered shunts of train stops.

Sleeping silent – what do you dream?

What rare vision do you see?

Stirring, barely present

No more yielding but a dream.

Remember those cobbled steps

short crosswalks

takeaway coffees in hand

past the honeysuckle, dewdrops

and daffodils

I still have your keepsafe

and I’d always cherish it

The train pulls in

away in these thoughts

I wish he was here

but with me, he resides

in the memory I carry

where time is free to pass

he’s here with me, at last.