Sometimes even when things are okay
you will find yourself crying
about the things that life has taken,
grandmothers and family pets and the rush
of the first time you were allowed to stay
home alone, first kisses and new feelings
and the last time you fell asleep in the car
and your father carried you inside.
It was winter and your new coat bunched
around you as your clung to him,
stubble and the scent of aftershave,
and maybe you sensed this would be
the last time and you tried to remember
as he slid the plastic-footed boots
from your tingling feet.

You will never sleep as well as you used to
or feel the same kind of ache after hearing
a favourite song for the first time,
but there will be moments to come
that you could never imagine, not greater
but different from being four and learning
to do up a zipper or fourteen, wine-drunk
and piercing your best friend’s ears
in the bathroom off the kitchen.

There will be sadness and there will be
beauty and there will be books you only
connect with because you are older
and because you have lived,
and even when living means losing,
crying over old photographs and asking
if it’s worth it just to die like
everyone else has died, know that there will
be other times you cannot see or even
dream of, sunsets and coffee dates
and the way the light comes through
the curtains just so to remind you