Ian Bowen


If She Calls... - Poem by Ian Bowen

If she calls
tell her I am out walking
my favourite fields;
that go as far
as the forest edge.
She will know where it is.
She will remember
the crushed grass 'neath
many a lifted double blanket.
Maybe she can still taste
the Champagne
from a crystal glass
and recall the heat haze
of pollen dusted days.

If she calls
tell her I will wait
on my single blanket
close to the forest edge.


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Poem Submitted: Thursday, February 4, 2010

Poem Edited: Monday, February 8, 2010


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