Berkshire Memories

By Marieke Wesselkamp

Saturday - white wine

to a whiter shade of pale

and dark petit fours,

I lift English landscapes

from sappy memories

one morning behind

Swallowfield, the bright white sun

lured dog walkers out

that, on open plain paths,

I tried to avoid by moving fast

along walking tracks

of Spencers Wood in June,

sun set slow - it turned

thick green grass to golden hair,

my heart beat like a drum

I met a guy from

Manchester, whose arms were burned

who bought hand-sized cakes

his name is John, he called me

hun, we watched Lady Chatterley

he's seen death, when he

saw me, he said: just go on

you will find your place -

I smiled, wondering if I

looked like standing beside it

One day I cycled

to Basildon Castle and

found Netherfield Park

just after having watched

Pride and Prejudice again

that time I cried for

his unexpected touching

of her hand - chosen.

today I hear: the truth is plain -

it's now pale blue, removed from skin

Sunday - fennel tea

and poetry and Sindy,

who says to me: You're

old enough to tell the truth,

but I just sent a postcard

despite the amplifier's hiss

Procol Harum sets the scene

mysteriously

as I dream of river Cam,

my words shed into silence

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Marieke Wesselkamp is a scientist by day and a poet by night. She works as a researcher in machine learning for the Earth system and has published several scientific articles in international journals. This is one of her earliest literary submissions. She lives in Germany and loves in English.