FebulousFebruary 2025: Lost and Found

Never

Never was a soul more welcome into mine.

Never was a mind so loved,

so curled with the curl of mine.

Never were the burning branches of Autumn as hot

as the ice white, fire beyond fire,

that sprang from you to me.

Never were the membranes and veins of the ants virgin wing

as intricate and new

as your eyelashes.

Never did a hand feel so healed in mine.

Never did a heart roar, as yours did,

with the roar of the thunder in mine.

And never was there a more desolate,

more deserted place,

than the emptied room that we left.

I still

feel the chill

of the draught

from the swing

of the door.

Renée McAlister, Brighton