The metal black stove
Cooled by nights decay
Forever dads first task
This cottage day reanaiscance
He rakes away yesterday
Now dust as detritus
Quickens the new hearth
Momentum for the wheel
I remembered the room
With its sloping floor
The table the chairs
In place watching listening
By lifes narrative tide
Positioned scraped moved wove
The present silly child
Growing then naming chaos
Where is my mum
Not here in memory
Handing me a plate
Walking through the gate
A flash of material
A face calling me
To order my sense
In making this formality
I laid and listened
My mind quite inert
daylight is about again
The day is finite
The green papered wall
Stared at thought on
From here there now
Alive in my Eden
fragments will remain fragments of thoughts, of loved ones gone they leave behind what is still remembered and that is what we cling to. i like this poem
Superb write..well penned and words flowing like something erupted from the mind.Amazing and swashbuckling write Sir..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This brought back many memories for me.. Thanks.Try Wild Flowers Live On