Memories of Joy

I still remember you, the way you smiled
and laughed and brushed your lips across my cheek;
your dances when we travelled all those miles
and bought a hill-view house within a week.
Those were some happy years with joyous dogs
to fill the dark November days with life
and music born of fiddle-bows and jogs
and melodies were played all day. The knife
you rammed through tender cheek, I still shiver --
the blood too fast to staunch and Sheffield steel
into brain - I fall. The copper river
of my hair is soiled and will never feel
your tender touch again. My body left
to rot in shallow grave. I am bereft.