Thirteen summers thence I shall recall
How 13 summers past have rolled away,
How many 13 nights the street-lamp lit,
And 13 times the lilac bloomed in May,
The passage round the side is deep with rain,
The shed-door creaks, the drain-pipe overflows,
The dustbin lid will rattle in the wind,
Ghost-bottles stand neglected there in rows,
My square and sunny room, the ‘friendly lounge’
(So aptly called by agents on the prowl)
The antique dining-room and oaken beams,
The creamy kitchen, whence we’d often scowl
Upon the neighbours, who would think, no doubt,
They’d pay the agent just to get us out!
Linda Roer
LRH
A beautiful piece of realism. Deeply moving and nostalgic. Susie.
Dear Linda, This sonnet is very well done, the rhyme scheme and rhythm keep perfect time and the thoughts are quite mature for the age at which it was written. Take care, Hugh
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I wrote this 60 years ago.