In Perpetuum
By Silver Spun Sand
Wed, 10 Feb 2016
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4 comments
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‘April is the cruellest month
breeding lilacs out of the dead land’
T.S. Eliot
tuesday afternoon-spring
lilac buds insist
with scribbles of green
all in the hedgerows
a shingle path away
ragwort elbows the grass
nudges the pond and wild rosemary
looks on
little bo-peep
so the locals call her
has lost her sheep, again – a shame
she loses her footing
the pond is cold
but she makes not a sound
neither has she ever, from birth...
poor little mite
golden orfe – kiss
her curls and the pond
covets her company...hungers
for yet more rain
a blue shot-silk shawl
ripples just above her head –
but it might as well be miles away
as she struggles to touch it
wishing she’d learnt
to swim... then she could be
like the fishes, but
she never did
tuesday afternoon-spring
lilac buds insist
with scribbles of green
all in the hedgerows
a shingle path away
ragwort elbows the grass
nudges the pond and wild rosemary
looks on
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Comments
Hello there, Bee. You have
Permalink Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on
Hello there, Bee. You have made the sunshine over my little house that much brighter this morning, and I thank you so much. I've got some sunshine on order for you, too, if you don't have it already, that is
Tina
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1 User voted this as great feedback
'golden orfe – kiss
'golden orfe – kiss
her curls and the pond
covets her company...hungers
for yet more rain'
Filled with loneliness with skillful visual portrayal and interpretation of intent. Excellent!
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