If you should ever go, my heart would break,
Leaving a house of empty rooms behind.
If you should go, be careful what you take,
Some things matter, but others I’d not mind.
So take the books, the CDs and the fridge,
The pictures from the wall, the bathroom sink,
Take the front garden, and the laurel hedge,
For these are not important things, I think.
But leave your imprint upon the pillow,
And the faded tee-shirt you wear in bed,
Leave the battered sofa, and its hollow,
On the arm, where you always rest your head.
For if you should go, there is no doubt,
In truth, it’s you I could not do without.
Early morning, as I make my escape
Towel-wrapped from the bathroom shower,
Stopping briefly when I see the shape
Of my wet foot-prints on the floor.
My toes, the soles and heels of my two feet,
Like something from a children’s story book,
With perfection in the silhouette,
As if an autograph, my own true mark.
When I return I find that they have nearly gone,
Dried up and leaving just a watery tear,
To vanish later in the morning sun;
And I wonder what I’ll leave behind me here,
How light the traces I have made since birth,
Evaporating on the sun-baked earth.
from Some Things Matter: 63 Sonnets (£8.99, £3.99 Kindle)
Image by Nicolas Huk
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