Strings of words have come into my head
that are almost like psalms about you.
If you knew, you’d probably laugh.
It’s funny isn’t it?
If the people who made decrees were wise,
you would be canonised -
Saint Toni;
In my dyslexia, i wrote Satin Toni -
maybe you would have preferred that more.
I keep bumping into moments when I wished you were around
There are so many questions still;
So many moments when I am shaky, and lazy,
and I knew that if only I could have 5 minutes
with your voice on the telephone
pressed close to my ears,
or a quick chat next to the photocopy machine,
or the time that it takes for rings from sweaty glass mugs
to stain the table
as you weave your stories into parables;
Everything will make sense again,
the fire will have new light, my small feet
ready for fight, for flight,
It might even be called hope.
There are so many things that you
would have been proud of;
So many changes that maybe,
you wouldn’t be surprised at,
since you always knew the might of seeds.
I keep bumping into moments when I wished you were around.
Today there is a meeting that you would have gone for,
where I would go, with two-thirds of the reason
being just to catch up with you, have a huge hug with you.
But I will still be there. And so will you.
In so many ways.
Every single person you have spent time with,
have you in them.
Like magic. Or witchcraft.
Or common sense.
It’s been a year, and I still keep bumping into you.
It makes me smile.
And it makes me sad.
It makes me write weird psalms about you in my head.
It makes me breakdance with hope and ache.
Miss you Toni. Miss you a lot.