I left this morning by Peter Bland

Peter Bland

I left this morning by Peter Bland

T.

Waking up from sleep to write this. Heavy-lidded, head full of fog still. Writing with my eyes almost closed, thinking this is a half-remembered dream. Thinking of maybe going back to bed to find you there.

I left this morning

Peter Bland

I left this morning saying ‘I love you’

as if setting out for some unknown country

instead of the corner shop. I wanted

you to be sure, in case

this time – out of, say, 10,000 departures

I never made it back: although

after 50 years together, 2 countries,

3 children, and several former journeys

that would put this one to shame

you’d think there’d be no need to pause

on my own doorstep, suddenly afraid

of the distance between us, of your absolute beauty,

of the growing aloneness when I clicked the latch.

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