You let me go as high and as far as fast as I liked
Each apple I reached was a triumph.
We shook the tree so hard
and laughed as we dodged the falling fruit.
The cool, sweet, ripe air of a proper 80’s autumn.
In my memory they’re cartoon fruit
Perfect red and green.
And you’re there, smiling up through the branches.
The safety of knowing
You’d catch me
If I fell,
Like a tumbling apple.
They kept all winter
Tucked into boxes
And sweet as they tasted, with sugar and brambles
Nothing was sweeter than that day in the garden
Two foolhardy clowns and their cartoon apples.
I miss you this autumn as I pick from my tree
No larking about and no foot on the ladder.
The bruising is deep
Not a clue on the skin
Just a shadow near the core where your loss crept in.
Sue Moon
A constant childhood scribbler, Sue is now a mother of three adults and a speech and language therapist. Processing illness and bereavement in 2022, she rediscovered how poetry could help her to make sense of so much change, and she hasn’t stopped writing since. All of her poetry is deeply personal, but the subject matter gives it a universal appeal. Her poems are suffused with and inspired by grief of the kind that sharpens your appreciation of life and all its beauty.
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