The flame is dying

<a href=””>Awakening</a&gt;

My 21 year old eyelids flutter open as skylarks chirrup in a far away place. Other sounds filter through the open window. A steady noise up higher in the sky, an easyJet passenger plane returning from Europe on the flight path faintly rumbles across the sky.

More gentle than a breeze, cool air moves across my naked shoulder like the lightest weight silk being drawn across it.

A closer bird, in the blossoming cherry tree in the garden below, sings a dawn chorus of clackety clacks.

Pheasants also stirring make that sudden ruffling to announce their presence, then a squawk in nearby fir woods.

I think about the night before; the lantern of conversation between us flickering softly, at first.

Always there for you I’ve wanted to help in all your troubles. I think I finally see that my help, words, touch, understanding is not enough. You repeat your issues time and time again.

My words now sound repetitive and I realise they did not become absorbed but were allowed to bounce off and around you, left on the ground to die away.

I’ve grown up now and I see I cannot change you to help you. Only you can do that.