Castaway
From this grey moon-dust
I see my home rise
as a child’s marble –
remembering
the games, tunes of childhood,
my mother singing “Hey Jude”
or thinking of your ring;
a cabochon fire opal
catching sunshine
as we kissed when we danced
to Oasis as morning broke.
Castaway with no way back
I watch for home to rise
from jet night, ribbon stars
firework comet tails threading orbits,
think of you asleep beneath
the water blanket encasing
the home we knew and loved before
I left for this desert. No island
no disc, no luxury but only
my thoughts, memories and love
to hold until they rescue or air expires.
Published Reach Poetry 197 January 2015
Carolyn O' Connell 