The lonely moorland called me by name
Purple heather swaying amongst
the dark low growing gorse
the tiny yellow flowers shining
like too many suns from a sci fi novel
how come this strip of land knows my name?
I heard it clearly as if my wife had called me
The sore spot in my heart reminding me
She is no longer here
She wanted to be a mother
This need stole her and my unborn child from me
With one swipe of the cruel hand of fate I am told.
Mine or hers, I have often wondered
My eyes were drawn to the sea
The rocky piece of land where the lighthouse stands
With my name ringing in my ear.
Victor, the way my wife would sound it
It stung like a knife, scratching the sore spot
Alongside her a small, much younger voice calling Daddy.
I did not become a father,
so, I knew this to be the ravings of my mind
I watched as the great finger of light swung around
On the third pass it seemed to slow
I thought my mind was playing another trick
In the slow finger of light, I could see my wife
Beside her, a young girl of about 4, who looked like my wife
The same eyes, same blonde hair
I heard my wife speak again. I have moved heaven and earth
For you to meet our daughter
I cannot hold the light for much longer
Use your phone, keep the image with you
I cannot return.
The light swung around at the normal speed and they were gone,
my phone the only proof of what I had seen…