Treasure Island

Laura Milner

(16.04.93 / Manchester)

Verses of Recollection


If mortar and brick were to inhale and perspire
reflect, spit out words, cause conflict, desire,
sentiment would be the most discussed topic.

We would converse with a host of memories
exhuming romanticisms from a soil dense with secrets.
We may acknowledge buried bones that settled years past,
learn to dance with the pattern that the dye has cast.

Tears that lay stagnant in an algae ridden pool
Will burst through banks and drown days gone by,
evaporating under the heavy sun in the sky.

Its rays perforate a new kind of roof
A vigorous change,
the heavy blanket of panic; diffused.

Our laughter still radiates through the cracks in the ceilings
Curiosity dissipates as we experience time healing.
The trees that have stood for years longer than I
will remain standing tall, keeping an eye

The gardens will remain bustling, birds will still swoop,
Moles will still uproot the ground, leaves continue to droop.
We will take the estranged hand of change, grasp it tight
Perch on its delicate palm
waiting for the realisation to hit,
the anxiousness to dwindle...
Calm.

When we look up, we see an identical sky
No reason to fret, no reason to cry.
For the dusty cardboard boxes that escorted the transition have been crushed and forgotten
leaving treasures to glisten.
We are left to polish the present,
Allowing it to shine whilst scrubbing new floors
Remnants of the past trapped tight within walls.

Submitted: Wednesday, December 26, 2012
Edited: Sunday, June 30, 2013

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