Poetry | When My Other Sister Got Married

You recognised the place, but

It was a crossing into it,

To the old and reaching branches of the oak

To the kaleidoscope of colour

In wind on a summer lane,

And in the relentless forwardness

Of both your brilliant lives,

You stopped, to pull time from new hours.

You crossed and crossed again,

Kisses drawn in ink on your map

Of London, Birmingham and Cork,

Until the story began and you would say to me:

“She never fell for the act” and,

“He just always knew”.

And then time uncrossed, unkissed,

Was wasted, and we outside, as you would pass

Might hope that love like that was tasted

By everyone, one day.

Then you stood, you rose, really,

And marked a line around your lives,

Where you could place the stones

And bundle in the hours that you own.

And inside, the crossing is not always there,

It vanishes with the edges of each other,

And in that moment, you give the world

A luminous new place for love.