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(6th March 1954 / London, England)

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And Then

Outside I hear the sounds of children,
the sounds do not get louder or softer,

just a small stone in the hand of a morning,
legs splayed and weak obscurely in cotton,

falling asleep again I scramble up a nightslope,
dirt and gravel shoot from underneath my bare feet

and then

I dream of my first day at school, the smell of
stale milk and wet raincoats, the crying of lost children.

This is an unexpected return, as if I will never wake again
to the sound of the paperboy opening the creaky gate.

Submitted: Monday, July 23, 2012
Edited: Wednesday, July 25, 2012


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Comments about this poem (A Summer Poem by Leslie Philibert )

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  • Roseann Shawiak (10/9/2013 3:37:00 PM)

    I agree with Samantha - this one is passable.

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  • Heather Wilkins (5/30/2013 9:50:00 PM)

    a well written verse. The imagery is great. I get the feeling I am there

  • Samantha Robinson (8/18/2012 11:28:00 PM)

    This one is passable.

  • Justin Reamer (8/16/2012 1:11:00 PM)

    This is a great poem; I really enjoyed it. Thank you for the comment. This is spectacular because of your dream's description. Good job.

  • Rajendran Muthiah (7/23/2012 8:32:00 AM)

    Unusual phrases like 'creaky gate', 'stale milk' and 'splayed legs' are used in smooth flowing lines. You hear the sounds of playing children and then fall asleep to scramble up an imaginary slope, dream of your first day in school and wake again to the sound of the paper boy. Simple events are couched in nice words in the form of couplets.

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