Honeycomb – by BIBI HAMBLIN

Honeycomb

by Bibi Hamblin

 

He will remember it

Through the prism of the honeycomb.


 

Memories eventually gang up against you,

Ask anybody


 

Childhood days filled with love, kisses, happy families

He could swear on his life,

His sister’s kiss on his cheek evidence of what he’d forgotten.


 

Weary from her heavy burden,

The promise, her own fault,

Every single detail

Written down

Kept hidden.


 

It was only him now,

The graveside,

The single red rose,

It was only him now,

Empty house

Sister and brother bound together,

The stain never completely erased,

The pages of the journals standing as judges.


 

Father’s got to go away

His mother said one evening,

She’d been crying,

He said nothing,

When Father became a ghost,

He said nothing,

A silent wave,

A smiley lady,

A room full of toys,

His sister spoiling his fun,

She held out a hand

In the end he took it.


 

A fresh start

Him, his sister, his mother,

All for the best,

New town,

New friends,

New name,

Mother now distant,

Sister now mother.


 

The ghosts hover,

Head in hands

Too full to take the weight,

He glances at the photograph

He and his sister laughing

Decides to remember,

Through the prism of the honeycomb.


***

Head shot sepia small

Bibi Hamblin is a certified workshop leader in the Amherst Writers and Artists Method. A Londoner, she can be found adding and subtracting words to create short stories, flash fiction and her first novel for children. Her work appears in the Blue Harvest Circle anthology, A Winter’s Romance and with Zeroflash and Visual Verse.

 

*Photo courtesy of Brian Michael Barbeito*

 

 

 

 

 

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