It was a yellow background,
The sort of yellow that lets the light in,
Here and there were brown rubbings from furniture,
But the overall pattern of black arabesque stalks and couplets of flowers;
A spiky pattern , rather,
Not quite nice in some way.
I expect the rolls had been a reduction at sale time,
Those January trips with dad in the rain,
Arms laden and collars tightly round faces.

I would sit by the fire tracing the design,
Making up stories in the landscape;
That yellow wallpaper was my childhood,
My father's love, my mother's comforter,
I am sitting by it now just remembering.

Love Mary **