The blossoms are out at Borambil,
the wattle extravagant near Dunedoo,
the sky hangs bright with an early spring promise
but I found myself hurrying through Sandy Hollow
and the bus stop where too many ghosts remain.
The flourish of canola used to delight and cheer us,
now it speaks of the progress of seasons
and those thousand reasons for missing your presence,
close beside me, sharing each moment,
building those memories that now bring back tears.
This road is too long, returning to Dubbo;
I can’t stop revisiting that final farewell;
just three short months, how long the days!
Each mile brings unease, no hint of release,
just frame after frame replayed in my mind.
The dogs are with me, each stop for their comfort.
Do they sense the grief that grips me so tight?
I’m sure they remember the soft handed woman
who called them with patience and love unabated;
I hope they’re okay now that you are not there.
I’m afraid of forgetting, of letting you fade,
I want to remember your scent and your touch,
the feeling of knowing I’ll see you tomorrow,
your aura, your presence, your voice on the phone;
for now I’ll hold fast to this ache in my heart.
This pain is not wanted, it’s not pity I seek,
but by keeping this anguish alive every day
I know you’re still with me, still present inside me,
it’s drifting apart, forgetting your essence,
that keeps me embracing this hurt deep inside.
