The dates I mark up are so few now
February 21st when we’d celebrate your birth, a war baby born under the sign of Mars
That summer at ‘The Lamb’, August 20th drinking up sunshine and a chance meeting. It was Bashert ¹, you’d say
Years later, September 26th, when the rain stopped and we wed in the autumn of our years
October 7th – a brand singed into my heart when you departed

So there is only one October for us ringed on the calendar and torn off each year. It comes to 8 years now

– “often you I mourn, and with chalice
of sweet bitterness”

1. Yiddish for meant to be ↩︎

And We Must Never Forget 7/10/23

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