Last Letter

A flotilla of rainbow coloured clouds,
conjured wonders given shape by words.
A letter to a child from a mother she
barely knew - a last loving legacy - a
memoir of how she came to be.
Under a violet hued waning crescent moon -
one stolen star-studded night of passion.

She sits in a barren waiting room and
reads to the end and its precious reveal -
a name never spoken before.
Hidden, Mum's little secret.
Questions answered now from
beyond the divide. She smiles.
Wipes away a solitary tear.

Doctors, useless white-coated 'gods'
delivered the news and left her to grieve, but
they were too late - she said her goodbyes months ago.
When it still mattered or meant something.
This was a blessing - release - an end to the pain.
A last breath fluttering on febrile moth wings
towards the open window, selfish to ask it to stay.

Blessed by new knowledge, the girl reads
of her conception again and smiles.
She whispers a private filial promise.
Outside, a waning crescent moon smiles back.
all the clouds wear rainbow faces.
They bear silent witness - painted by the city lights
by an artist used to working on a grand scale.