THE THIEF

When I remember you
It is hard to not see
The finality of your stillness
In the chaotic swell of the ICU

I choose instead
The technicolour image
Preserved in old film photographs
Enshrined now in dusty boxes

Yet my memory fails me
Like the thief that it is
Slipping in and out
Of a quiet room

Stealing my breath away
With only the slightest changes in the air
Locking somehow the door
Grief inescapable.