Thursday, 11 June 2015


Our Mamas were best friends, & then so were we,

As babes on blanket, holding hands, under old tree,

As children we played, holding hands in our games,

At school, holding hands, ignoring calling of names.


Growing together, hands & hearts turned to our love,

Hands joined by gold bands, our vows to heaven above,

Our hands holding, eventually, small babes of our own,

Just like us long ago, “Gosh my love, how we have grown”.


Now old & grey, holding our hands, creased & mottled,

Like old wine, aged & matured, our love safely bottled,

We´re still holding hands, within our soft gentle dying,

As we did long ago, while upon our blanket once lying.



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