"SPRING IS HERE, I HEAR. . ."
I carry the sky
across the street
stumble under
its weight.
Now I carry the buildings
and finally some trees and a dog.
The dog barks
at itself.
I look like a mirror
with legs.
A mirror walking
down the street.
We, dance partners
it & I.
I all huff & puff
the mirror calm as anything.
The edges of the mirror
bite deep into my palms.
I am tired of carrying the sky
place it against a red-bricked wall.
Finally the mirror
half cracked at the top
has time to
reflect upon its new home.
I have saved it from a fate worse than
a skip.
It gives my little room
an extra dimension.
A room that isn't
there that I am
always walking in( ouch! )to.
Sometimes I talk to
the me in the other room.
I paint my room bright
bright yellow
fill it with jonquils
and daffodils.
A red skirting board
runs around the room.
The flowers rejoice.
Spring, it appears, is:
here.
There is no you nor
ever will be
again.
I sit with my reflection.
Both of us say nothing.
We have
nothing
to say.
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 10:51 AM UTC
"SPRING IS HERE, I HEAR. . ."
I carry the sky
across the street
stumble under
its weight.
Now I carry the buildings
and finally some trees and a dog.
The dog barks
at itself.
I look like a mirror
with legs.
A mirror walking
down the street.
We, dance partners
it & I.
I all huff & puff
the mirror calm as anything.
The edges of the mirror
bite deep into my palms.
I am tired of carrying the sky
place it against a red-bricked wall.
Finally the mirror
half cracked at the top
has time to
reflect upon its new home.
I have saved it from a fate worse than
a skip.
It gives my little room
an extra dimension.
A room that isn't
there that I am
always walking in( ouch! )to.
Sometimes I talk to
the me in the other room.
I paint my room bright
bright yellow
fill it with jonquils
and daffodils.
A red skirting board
runs around the room.
The flowers rejoice.
Spring, it appears, is:
here.
There is no you nor
ever will be
again.
I sit with my reflection.
Both of us say nothing.
We have
nothing
to say.
