It's Still Life

A Spectre

Mum was the space between 
fragile and forever, between 
fierce and a cheek-swept kiss.

There was once a memory
with her name, a spectre now. 
I heard it once, it tugged at my

sleep, and then scattered off
my fingertips when I woke. 
If I forget will you forgive me? 

I passed a shop window today. 
My world’s closed, windows 
soaped white. I thought I saw 

my future in the glass, but it 
was knots, snares, and much 
to do about it already being July.

for PB Day 1 ©️ Misky 2020