Alice Anne Gordon
A Sense of Something Beautiful
The sound of rain on window pane
when you’re all wrapped up inside.
The sound of gentle breathing
as you lie awake at night.
The taste of HP sauce on beans
with hot bacon.
The taste of homemade apple-pie
Reminds you of your childs first drawing -
not perfect, but unique.
Holds likeness to great tapestries
with their complex, beauty.
Like favourite woollen gloves
with hat and scarf to match.
The rose with petals soft, accepting
thorns that scratch.
The smell of books anew,
each chapter unread.
The smell of pillow case,
Where memories dwell.
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Comments about this poem (A Sense of Something Beautiful by Alice Anne Gordon )
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