Silly, I know, but I half expected
to see her – sleeves rolled up;
her indomitable pinny, made
from a scrap of the upstairs
bedroom curtains. Sprigs
of violets. Purple – her colour.
The kitchen clock had stopped
at three-thirty; a tap – dripping
in the sink thrumming a largo beat
for one for whom, now – time
holds no meaning.
A dishcloth, on its hook –
dry as a bone, and a chamois
leather, brown and brittle,
on the floor by the clothes-horse;
the last leaf of winter, succumbed
to its inevitable fate.
In the garden – washing, still
on the line. Her dress of lilac mists
waltzes with a mad March wind.
Purged and pristine, I fold it away
in the dark of her closet, and wonder
why I’d knocked on her door
before I’d gone in.
Comments
seashore | November 21, 2011 - 11:17
Yes I could visualise the whole scene - even down to the `chamois leather, brown and brittle'. Great stuff, Tina.
fatboy74 | November 21, 2011 - 11:50
the last leaf of winter...beautiful poem Tina. :-)
Medora Chevalier | November 21, 2011 - 11:59
Beautifully evocative of that strange moment where you enter the home of loved one who has passed on for the first time and they are still "there" for you. Powerful images.
Rhiannonw | November 21, 2011 - 12:08
full of the surrounding, speaking bittersweet sights that touch the tears and happy memories. Rh
Silver Spun Sand | November 21, 2011 - 12:48
Glad you thought so, Coral;-) Many thanks for letting me know.
Tina
Silver Spun Sand | November 21, 2011 - 12:49
fb;-) Thank you, so very much.
Tina;-)
Silver Spun Sand | November 21, 2011 - 12:50
Medora - I thank you for reading, and for your inspired comment. Much appreciated;-)
Tina
Silver Spun Sand | November 21, 2011 - 12:51
Rh - many thanks;-)
Tina
shoe | November 21, 2011 - 13:15
Every little detail is so evocative, lovely poem.
Silver Spun Sand | November 21, 2011 - 13:41
Many thanks, shoe;-)
Tina
Arthur Ray | November 21, 2011 - 16:21
Beautifully written. Wonderful examination of the intricate details.
Silver Spun Sand | November 21, 2011 - 16:24
Well thank you, Arthur. Kind of you to take the trouble to say so. Much appreciated;-)
Tina
Kilb50 | November 21, 2011 - 17:58
'...dripping in the sink thrumming a largo beat' - lovely line & a very evocative poem!
Silver Spun Sand | November 21, 2011 - 18:54
Thanks, so very much, Kib...both for reading and for your lovely comment.
Tina
Highhat | November 21, 2011 - 20:44
another corker Tina..
;)Pia
threeleafshamrock | November 21, 2011 - 21:01
'...Her dress of lilac mists
waltzes with a mad March wind.
Purged and pristine, I fold it away
in the dark of her closet, and wonder
why I’d knocked on her door
before I’d gone in.'
Jeez, I could almost 'feel' this piece. It was almost a Deja Vu moment; a kind of, 'been there, done that' feeling. You don't have to have 'bought the t-shirt', to appreciate this piece...but it sure as hell resonates all the more, for the experience. Another thought prodding poem Tina; love it!
Chris xxx
Cavalcaderl | November 21, 2011 - 22:40
new Silver-Spun-Sand
Hi1 Tina,
Yes,most has been said,
another cracker! in word's
and images. Can imagine it all.
Like painting a picture! Many memories.
Last stanza so photographic.
In the garden-washing still
on the line. Her dress of lilac mists
waltzes with a March mad wind.
Well deserved cherry!
julie xx
Silver Spun Sand | November 22, 2011 - 09:00
And thank you, Pia, so very much;-)
Tina;-)
Silver Spun Sand | November 22, 2011 - 09:01
Julie - Pleased you enjoyed, and many thanks for teling me;-) Have a good week.
Tina xx
Silver Spun Sand | November 22, 2011 - 09:02
Strange how that can happen sometimes...that deja vu thing. I am so pleased you found this one evocative, Chris and many thanks for taking the trouble to tell me;-)
Tina xxx
skinner_jennifer | November 22, 2011 - 10:25
Hello Tina,
most has already been said, but I found this poem
very spiritul.
Thankyou for sharing.
Jenny.
Silver Spun Sand | November 22, 2011 - 11:20
Jenny - I am pleased you got right to the heart of this one, and that it meant so much to you.
Thank you for your words;-)
Tina