The Thread

Out of the corner of my eye
I see a shadow.
Somewhere in my inner ear
I hear a whisper.

Echoes from that long ago,
another life,
one of the many.

Fears and expectations
of the world that was to come,
the world that came
and went away.

Now here I sit,
surrounded by familiar things –
this place will also be
a memory one day,
a passing dream
of future, past and present intertwined
into the here and now.

The thread that passes through,
that binds them all
the common centre where they intersect:
myself alone.

Linda Rushby 19 June 2020