Quarter to January

Cherry

By Silver Spun Sand

Wed, 17 Dec 2014
  • 1857 reads
8 comments
 
Christmas morning; that off-kilter smile, 
that very last gift you gave to me...and mine – 
a little less memorable...your favourite skin cream. 
And yet, Moisturise, moisturise, moisturise... your motto,
your mantra – your lifeline.  
 
And so I indulged you, fresh from your bath –
every north, south, east and west of you; watched you 
skim the coast...drift to your island;  only touch
keeping you afloat.
 
Eyes that once sparkled with massed crystals
like the scales of a Blue-Paradise fish, fought
to stay open, as I strove to  keep you in my sights
in the unforgiving mist of yesterdays 
and my own self-pity.
 
This wasn’t how it was meant to be the day 
you came to me; not what I’d had in mind at all... since
the first stutter of your eyelids brushing my cheek,
as you lay at my breast, became the last thing
I swore I’d forget... 
 
And you, running in from the yard; a scrappy
yellow fringe bothering your brow – remnants 
of a rainy afternoon with your grandma, 
and a scissor-happy sister; how you reminded me 
of a dandelion – trenchant as you’d grown...
 
a question mark of a curl on your forehead,
small hands cupped, as if in prayer...
a baby sparrow, fallen from the nest.
 
“May we keep it?” you said, and I taught you
the art of letting go, as I needed you to teach me...then,
in that hospice room.
 
My hand in yours, felt the love affair you had with life, fast
slipping through your fingers, as fell petals to the floor –
French lavender, and lilac; flowers sent by devotees
of one remarkable lady
 
in the vase by your bed – caught the light;  
angled stints of a gilt edged blackberry sky, snagged 
on purpure thorns of goodbyes. 
 
Outside – a tenderness of snow caressed the trees;
inside – the room – dark, but for the unflinching, 
luminescence of an indifferent T.V. on mute.
 
A quarter to January, and how I yenned to stop 
all the clocks...cut off the phones – cease the yakking
on Twitter; lace curtains shuddering in a draught
from an open casement window. 
 
Slivers of moonshine on frosted glass...shimmering
like petrels’ wings, risen from the tide; the ether – 
electric with escape. Somewhere between hope
and despair, I told you – Go, if go you must,
but fly high, little fledgling mine.
 
Certificate 15
Poem
Silver Spun Sand Poems
Spiritual
Love
Autobiography

Comments

Submitted by Bee on

Letting go is the hardest thing, especially when you were never supposed to. There's so much love in this, Tina. It's heartbreaking. It's something about looking back at the memories - and no one knows back then, what's ahead. As usual, no trouble has been spared on exquisite description of detail. 

'Outside – a tenderness of snow caressed the trees;
inside – the room – dark, but for the unflinching, 
luminescence of an indifferent T.V. on mute.' 

I especially loved these three lines.

Bee

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Thank you, Bee.  A difficult time of the year for me, but writing about it, and reading thoughts such as yours, Bee, really help.

Tina

 

Submitted by Rhiannonw on

You've rephrased some of these thoughts, while redrawing the moment (stopping the clock in a sense) and there is much tender beauty in the captured scene, linked to past memories, and present struggles, which could help others. Rhiannon

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

My sincere thanks to you, Rhiannon, and I do so hope you are right about it helping others.  I should like to think so, anyway.

Tina

 

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

Heartbreaking and wise.

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Appreciated greatly, Philip.  

Tina

 

Submitted by VeraClark on

This is stunning. For me it works as a microscope looking on the past - it magnifies human frailty and the transitory state of life itself in all its agony whilst providing an acute lens on the vulnerability of our natural world too. You distil such complex emotion very rationally into poetic form - not sure I could stem the hurt to achieve that. Thinking of you.

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

...and thinking of you, too.  Hope you are blossomingsmiley

Thanks, so much, for taking time out to read this, and for your words, inspirational, as ever.

Tina