Ernestine Northover Poems

He was a perfect gent,
Who having thus been lent,
This, Oh such precious key,
With which to view a property,
...

Can you not see the sorrow, in someone's tearful eyes,
Or see the dread, in someone's weary frown.
Can you not see the fear, when someone's telling lies,
Or feel the sadness, in the laughter of a clown.
...

Thick the mist at early morning's dawn,
Cold the chill that enters by the door,
White the frost, that lies, across the lawn,
Each one piercing, striking to the core
...

Sitting in front of the fire, Auntie Flo's reciting a story,
it's one about her first Christmas as a newly wed,
the same one she broadcasts every year,
but no one is listening.
...

My universe, that's what you are,
My morning sun and my evening star,
The reason for every step I take,
And help with every move I make,
...

With branches coated topside white with snow.
And blue the shadows stretched along the ground.
Trees adding sharpness, a wintry view on show,
With dazzling, flickering sunshine, such can astound
...

Look out across the windswept hills,
With rainbow hues, with misty blues,
Across the valleys, lakes and rills,
Where landscapes fuse, where eyes peruse,
...

A golden sphere is lifting up so slowly in the east,
The eye is looking towards it, and seeing such a feast,
Blazing with bands of colour, and giving a wondrous heat,
A view that to each observer, is something so complete.
...

After years of caring;

Comes the day, when the children depart,
for pastures new, for them a new start,
...

I was happy this morning, as I woke up in bed,
Then realized it was Monday and I faced the day with dread,
For somehow, whatever comes my way, my temper is displayed,
Just mentioning 'it's Monday', my nerves, they become frayed.
...