Who tickled the small tongues of the mosses
The lichens concentric mustard blooms?

Ran his hand along the wall to read the varying tufts
Spread out braille for a half blind man to read?

Who tore a tiny rooted being out of the crevice
To drop in my bag, a hushing finger to his lips?

What half-thrives on my kitchen sill
Among the things he loved and stroked?

Exquisite spare leaves, one or two pinking tendrils
I cannot touch such fragile supernatural fingers
Of course they are cold
Even  the sun misses you.


Veronica Aldous All rights reserved 2016

Original art: Heart-h by Veronica Aldous


About Veronica Aldous

Writer and artist, Veronica is a lecturer is Fine Art and Creative Writing. Her first book of poems, 'Moon Cinema' is now available on Now there is also 'Mortal' her second book.
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