November Harvest

If I pretended to kiss your face, the texture holding

Our memories, would you feel it? The impossible touch?

I tell myself that I recognise your gaze in the darkness of

My room, the longing in my cells, reconstructing you, everlasting.


I miss the scent of your hands, their strength, your imperfect back,

The way powder smelled on your skin. I remember how much you cared

About me, how you couldn’t sleep until I’d be back, everything we talked about

And the purest lack of judgement within you, in the notes of your voice,

Everything that was in your nature to give, you distributed without a doubt.


I carried you through the clouds, I finally knew you to be beside me,

In my hands, all my warmth travelling into you, the hardened essence,

The final companion and witness, I surround you with sunshine.

I made space within me for what I so loved about you and still evoke

Every time I look at your picture, that well-known smile, the generosity and


monochrome photo of mother and child
Photo by Suzy Hazelwood on

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