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Gerard Rochford
The name I scraped
on the Jack Frost window
all those years ago
was Violet;
the girl my brother loved,
from the village shop.
Violet – still etched in my brain,
as the breath of now
melts a window to the past.
Later, in the corner of the glass,
with my mother’s ring
I scratched a date, a heart,
an arrow and our initials.
My brother’s girl,
my secret,
till today.
Gerard lives in Aberdeen. He is the Scottish Review’s makar and contributes a poem each month. Publications include: ‘Failing Light’ and ‘Of Love and Water’
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