Nothing disturbed the tranquil air,
The tick, tick of the time-worn clock.
The sitter in the wooden chair
Not hearing the gentle, gentle knock.
An old, old man by the broken door,
Breathed in the still, still air.
The sitter looked but did know
The man who entered there.
‘Who are you? ' the sitter asked,
‘I am Memory? ' the man replied
As the quiet, quiet sitter gazed
Upon a face once recognised.
Memory, seeing no thought to share,
Lingered a short, short while
And the sitter in the wooden chair
Smiled a faint, faint smile
And the clock measured the stillness
As the man left the calm, calm room.
And the sitter sat in silence,
Alone in the still, still room.
Wow. That was a wonderful poem. Great use of form. When reading this I envisioned an old married couple, the woman with dementia of some sort. She smiled a faint smile...a feeling of love? The silence made me sad. It's as if she's sitting there waiting for her memory, her love, to return. Loved this one.
Thank you very much for taking the time to read and comment on my poems, Jette. Much appreciated. This piece was written in memory of a lady I knew whose memory faded until it was almost altogether lost.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Silent memory that we'll live with it...thanks for sharing.