a short visit

A Short Visit

Hadn’t been here for thirty years, not since my brother’s
funereal, the cemetery was bigger now; but I knew his
place was near a big stone with “Chief engineer Olsen
engraved; fifty years dead and he was still an engineer.
I didn’t find brothers grave maybe his stone had sunk,
the ground was soft with all this digging; standing still
my feet sank into spongy soil. Must have gone in circles
three times I came to Olsen’s grave; finally I gave him
the flowers, I’m sure brother didn’t mind. Left, trying to
remember his face, couldn’t, but I have a photo of him
in an album. Squally wind threw rain about I could see
the bay its water was gray and edgy, a ship was leaving
harbour, pity the seafarers heading in to a storm, pity us
all, never told my brother I loved him