My pre-lunch drink

I've been cutting back a hedge for hours,
so now my pre-lunch drink seems well-deserved.

But with it comes, for no clear reason,
the sharp remembrance of your face,
hung round with greying curls;
your eyes, a brighter blue than most,
in contrast to a sun-tanned skin.

And I recall those last few days
when rationality was helpless, logic lost,
and monsters surfaced from some ocean bed,
previously unsounded.

And so I live and relive,
locked in constant rewind,
your final , desperate flounderings,
before absurd, unnecessary death.