Lives in a Landscape

The Bonny Bit

I can’t throw it out, no –
remembering the hard
days he had, bending so
long in the muffling dark;
one of the bonny bits
he brought and kept.
So I’ve stripped
the room, given away
the books and stuff – they mean
nothing to me, old things
like Ore and Metals. I dare say
Jack will like to have that one.
This chunk of spar, though, brings
those mornings back: I’ve seen
him turn it in the light,
watching the sun
split by the purple tips!
One of his bonny bits;
I’ll keep it safe.

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