It’s hollow in the absence of their presence - an after
-event diminution of rare hedonistic awareness - like
a deflation of fondly remembered edifices shared, or
dressed in cogency of restored memories - as if they
were days of distinction we thought should remain in
a dilated but benign state - well, there’s no escaping;
the hiss and roar and clatter claims whatever sense
is abased into obeisance as we ride the same train
Always astounding how supreme your Family reigns,
it bares whom you are; tho’ there’s no independence
witnessing familial events, try it and see whose view
colours the rainbow you all grew into; that’s the pale
edge to reality, you didn’t miss ‘em until the day they
weren’t there to complete the right spectrum again
© 13 April 2016, I. D. Carswell
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