Kwa Heri

Girl from the warm land
I remember your way with little children
their storms you would not have but took them to the beach
it was a if they rested on the warm sand
when you held them and talked to them
they soon forgot their cries
and then the mood for playing took hold of each
in the sweet sun at the corner of your eyes

Bridget
I knew you when you were twelve years young
in a Buckinghamshire village and a garden full of marigolds
I felt your love and managed to dodge it
ran off down the road and hid among
the houses but I loved you from afar
five years later for your lovely freckles
and startling figure

I took you to a Liverpool cinema
the next evening we played cards and still said nothing
I watched in amazement as you took every trick
then you went back to Kenya
nothing had come of the meeting
yet the next three years showed there was something missed
you came to London and put on orange lipstick
and I took you out and we knew what we had missed

you were my first girlfriend though we never kissed
another time we were walking in Shropshire
with a crowd of kids and we lay down for a rest
not quite touching each other

O I knew you best
as a friend and when I heard that you had died
in a car-crash in Africa
O my dear cousin
I saw children comforted by the sun
of your warmth and missing you
and all was dark and I cried

Let the world call you its darling for your freckles
let there be one
with freckles spelt all over her face
everywhere there is sun
let her be called your name –
but since then I have known
you are gone, and the world will not find you again.
There is no more Bridget.