In my mind

In my mind, you're woven of water. Mist, shadows and rain, crispness of leaves and diamonds of the first snow.

In my mind, you're all gold and mahogany, dark blue and creamy white, summer wine and autumn memories.

In my mind, you are courtrooms and corridors, books and debates, cricket and tea.

In my mind, you are the Guardian of the era, the true child of Victorian times - a perfect gentleman, born and raised, witty and sharp, compassionate and kind. Troubled by migraines, withholding too much- calm and confident, friendly and charming.

In my mind, I've known you for decades, and looking at you, is like looking in the mirror - yet no mirror can show me your face when opposed to mine.

In my mind, you're always Monty. Not Montague, and never Druitt - let this be left with your teachers and colleagues.

In my mind, I still see you the way I saw you once: trying to reach me through the fog, rain and night, approaching and drawing back.

In my mind, I know you. And nobody can dissuade me. I know you.

My boy in the river

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