(in memory of Michael Martin)
the stack of papers in the staff room belongs to the past,
the word ‘remember’ keeps cropping up in our conversations
with the cream cakes, jacket pockets lined with biros,
floppy discs abandoned beside the computer.
Suddenly our memories are linked. A day will come
when one of us meeting another on a street will say
“Do you remember ?” and be answered ”Yes. Yes, I do.”
and for a moment the two will be one.
Suddenly “enjoy your summer” also means
“come back well. It matters.”
And some I would wish to kiss good-bye,
for our shared past, for the times we are one.