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          13 May 2012

When we came here in nineteen-eighty-four

Would we have guessed that twenty-eight years on

We'd only just be trouping out the door

For the last time, and when we are gone

Will memories of these years just disappear?

For this house was never ours, though we thrived

A few year here, as many did before

And many yet may do if it survives.

Memory travels with us, all unaware;

Those tiny fragments of so many days

Known only to ourselves, unless we share

With those who can recall our family ways.

Solstice, birthdays, Sunday lunch with friends

These last forever - such love never ends.

Brian Hick May 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 6.5.24