A Poem For Mia Poem by Simon Lawson

A Poem For Mia



It’s easy to think one is in love
Alas to exist in a state of ignorant bliss
You think you love, what have you missed?

Love is not really ours to have, it simmers, it burns,
It keeps us alive, our stomachs it churns
Our mind it mists and our soul it devours
We bestow upon it the greatest powers

The obsession of humanity
The young, the brave
The old, the wise, from beyond the grave

Our thoughts it mingles, our hearts it breaks
Our withering olden minds it snakes
When years have passed, and you might fool yourself into thinking all is forgotten
A stranger walks past with the blue umbrella

Or smell of the air, rain on dust,
The sight of heather, a car painted in rust

Wait until all the ticks have tock’d and the little hands are tired and the numerals have long since vanished

Marched away with the shade of the room,
the dust settles sleepily.

Wait some more until sound itself is a constant,
Soundless idea
Until age obscures the corners of your vision
And wrinkles numb your touch

Wait again until you are as constant as the floor
That drinks the light and knew them all

Wait, wait, wait
And the sight of field poppy will still take you
Back to the lampshade in the room where your mother would wake you

Where the smell of mint tea back to your brother’s snores
Back to the boy in class you would adore

A new book, wet ink ever so faint
Brings you back to the school library’s paint

Where the sigh of stranger
Reminds you of yours
The tiredness that has filled you
Everyday meant more

After his death and the hours on the grass
Listening to them talk about how his life had passed

Where words hidden in pens, waiting to fall
Long afternoons in university halls

Where polished silver reminds you of cold feet
And guests singing cheers, and candle’s heat

Where sleepless nights are all too well-known
Yet now that child’s child has long since grown

And the slipping quilt, is not from another being unfair
Now when you turn, the bed is bare

If you have loved
Don’t be surprised if it’s all you have left
Not the thing itself
For that I am bereft

For the sights and moments
Caught and shaped
The second of time, I would not let escape
I am no more than what I loved.

Saturday, December 5, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: age,love and life,memory,timeless
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Shakil Ahmed 05 December 2015

For the sights and moments Caught and shaped The second of time, I would not let escape I am no more than what I loved.- -amazing lines, thanks for sharing

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