First published in May 2021

I prepared pears today,
nothing fancy, no wine,
no sugar, no cream,
just fruit cored and peeled,
such a smooth baby's
bottom shape, so soft.

Pears give up their skins
so easily, a sharp knife,
three precise movements,
green farls binned and
the sweet white flesh slips
into bowls, fridge-ready.

They made a scratch lunch
with a glass of wine and
lumps of Cheddar, that last
time sitting in my sun-room,
idly listening to Audible, but
thinking all the while of loss -

the loss of my garden, its
steep slope, my blue & yellow
bedroom, my sunny lounge.

If only I could give it all up
as readily as pears their skins
I think as I close the front door

and turn my key for the last time.