The Wall

The Wall

The Wall

It was a day like any other
when they came for us.
This was the world we knew,
except the light was different:
the sky, the leaves, the distant sea.
We held hands as we walked,
and they walked behind us,
smoking cigarettes, talking
in hushed tones, embarrassed.
Only the colours troubled me,
the dandelions, how bright they were.
I hadn’t noticed that before.
The world will carry on, you said,
but I wasn’t sure. I had an intuition
that once I was gone
it was the end for everyone.
You gripped my hand as we came
to the wall. You were the one
true constant in everything.
The stone was warm, we could feel
the heat against our backs.
There was a scent of marjoram.
The sea was blue, and a single ferry
sailed out of the harbour.