I heard this tragic poem, this tale of ‘amour’ or ‘love’ as more common people call it as it was carried upon a thin breeze. I was taking my midnight walk through the abandoned cemetery near my country estate and it struck into my heart. I knew I had to take a spade right there and then and uncover the voice. Sadly, the words were merely trapped inside a fluke echo and my digging destroyed it forever. I memorised what I could and present it here for you today. May it bring you every happiness and joy.

part un

My dear old love, poor sickly Mary,

You died this day in February.

Your precious memory I will save

Beside my heart inside your grave.

And as I claw through earth and clay

I’ll tell the worms of Valentine’s Day.

part deux

I remember well, my dearest Mary

That fateful day in February

When you stole another’s heart

And the law courts made us part.

part trois

I look upon the moon and see

My Mary’s final note to me.

For in the dusty craters there

I see her running out of air.

—

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Illustrations © 2016 Carl Pugh. You can see more of Carl’s incredible illustrations HERE.