On the Hilltop.

Liverpool Sky

Go and look from the hilltop now.  Where we used to go.

Does it bring back thoughts of happier days?

Warmer summers and light-hearted ways?

Does it make you wish that those times had stayed?

I’d really love to know.


Go and sing all the songs we sang.  When we wanted the same.

Do they trip from your tongue like they used to do?

Like a secret language for me and for you?

Does it seem like the music is still playing through?

Like the changes never came.


Go and read from the books we shared.  When you needed me.

Do you turn all the pages like turning back years?

Laugh at the memories or choke back the tears?

If you sit there in silence, is it me that you hear?

Reading the words you see?


Go and look from the hilltop now.  And think of how we were.

Do you smile at the daft little ways that we had?

Remember the small things that made us so glad?

Do you wish we still sat here? Does it make you feel sad?

I’ll treasure the times we spent there..

This is about looking back at the times when my children were younger and we did more together. We almost never go anywhere as a whole family now and I miss that. The hilltop is Everton Brow, from where you get a fantastic view of Liverpool, the River Mersey and the Wirral Peninsula.

Everything inside

In my head is everything I’ve ever owned.  And nothing.

I can touch the fur of loved, long-disintegrated bears,

Hear the rattle of a nut, stuck in a money-box that was really a plastic bottle.

My imaginary hands can stroke the dog I loved and will miss forever.

In my head is everything I’ve ever known.  And nothing.

All the words of all the books through all the hours,

Pictures that made me want to be an artist, or a princess.  Or Odysseus.

I can sing the songs that lulled me into sleep.

In my head is everyone I’ve ever known.  And no-one.

Here, my brother tells me how to tie my laces. 

He seems so grown-up but now I know he’s not.  He’s just a boy.

My friends come over for my birthday, bringing chocolates.

I realise that all along there really was no-one.  Just me.