Lawrence's 21st by Michele Ross

 Lawrence’s 21st

(Meaning: ‘bright one’; ‘shining one’ ‘laurelled’)

One New Year’s Eve

we travelled many miles,

To the distant edge of time.

An ancient cottage stranded

on the bone cold Norfolk coast,

Warmed by memories of

summer boating on the lake,

and families

entwined around the hearth.

A magical trip,

With stormy cliff top walk

And music-making,

too much beer,

And football on the beach.

Peppered with poignancy

And grace,

Moments of heartache

And hope,

weighted with the grand

significance of youth.

And you, the birthday boy

A shadow of the former self

I loved in Edinburgh - 

The vibrant trumpet player

Fizzing with energy and life,

good humour pulsing

through your veins.

 

Reduced to pale beauty

reclining by the open fire,

In fitful waking moments,

Smiling weakly to reassure

Your patient mother.

She placed cake

and lit candles,

A ritual to stir

Your suddenly

aged bones,

Watching helpless

As your grieving brother,

Lay in phantom misery beside,

Watching, waiting

For sleeping beauty

to arise

and blow out the candles.

Each New Year’s Day

I wonder what

became of you,

the path I never crossed again.

Were you one of those

who shone brightly, then

burned out and

fell away.

Too delicate

in body

or mind

To stay

Or did you mark your 50th today