When I miss Skew, I'd do my mighty best to recall all the times we had together. Be it having a good laugh or getting pissed at each other (mostly me at him), I'd savour the memories of us holding hands, kissing and the notes and cards and poems he used to write to me.
Skew explained that he no longer writes for me because he feels happy (now we're steady together) and his happiness needs no form of expression. He prefers to be introspective.
'I know the means to be happy and I strive towards it. And perhaps that's why I'm running out of the emotions required for good poetry.'
Meanwhile, I'm one who feeds on dramatic out-of-this-world head-over-heels cannot-live-without romance, helium-filled pink balloons, flowers and William Blake's poems. SIGH.
Anyhoo, I was fiddling with the cards Skew used to send me and he wrote me this one very lovely poem for my 25th birthday.
Another YearHow time sneaks us byAs we navigate on life's choppy waters.Too much on the next colliding waveAnd too little on the journey.Today's a good day;Unlade your cargo and sieveBlessings from misfortunesOf the year gone past.The chaotic world pausesIn the calm habour,So relax your well-wornSoul and celebrate your spirit.Slow down and find this dayA familiar smile that never leftMy lips, just for you.Just as it'll always beAnother year.
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