(poem about an old lady i saw standing at the bus stop)
like a leaf she was blowing
in her thick purple woolen coat
waiting by the side of the road, in the sunshine
her feet touching the floor
with the same conviction
as the final few leaves
who hold to the branches of trees
in late autumn
as the bus arrives
she holds out a hand clutching
a red and white poker spotted handkerchief
which blew itself in the wind
and as the bus pulls over
she is imagining being young
and collecting cheeries from trees
with her red and white poker spotted handkerichief tied to her wrist
and blowing itself gently in the breeze
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
I thought your handerkeif and cherries were excellent .... :-)
ReplyDeleteI have seen many things. Your words reflect what you are, and I see you. I have heard many things, and inside your space, I hear you.
ReplyDeleteI do not pass by often but I am glad that I did so today because out you pop, like cherries from a hanky. Tap tap tap. Vous savez qui je suis, je sais. Je vais bien, mon amie.
i dont know who you are :)
ReplyDeletethanks though...
and so who are you? .)