In The Parlour

Cherry

By Ewan

Wed, 22 Jan 2020
  • 1008 reads
6 comments
 

Among the cluttered shelves,

filled with a lifetime’s bric-a-brac -

thimbles, spoons and plates -

are faded photographs.

 

You sit with a once-loved one,

they sit, smiling, with a stranger

 

Look outward.

It’s hard, I know.

The world goes on:

one person

here or there

makes no difference.

 

And those who are neither,

fogged in by bad-luck

in old age,

make still less.

 

Look away.

The person in that chair

- a ghostly

antimacassar

behind them -

is not your mirror

or your future.

 

And if it should be so,

if fog comes for you,

you will not

know it came.

 

image credit Heather Cowper

Certificate U
Poem
Miscellaneous

Comments

Submitted by skinner_jennifer on

This reminded me of when I helped a friend clean his mother's house who had died, wondering about the people in framed photographs dotted around...who were they, what were they like? 

A poingnant poem that reminds us that when death suddenly takes you, do not mourn for too long, for life goes on and in that last stanza, it will be so sudden we won't have time to question why.

Hope I got what you were trying to convey right.

Jenny.

 

Submitted by Ewan on

for reading and commenting. There is always more than one poem on a page. The one that is written and the one that is read. There are no right answers.
E x

Author Page at the 'Zon
 

Submitted by Insertponceyfre... on

It isn't the fog which seems so cruel, it's the times when the fog momentarily lifts. they must be so frightening

 

Submitted by Ewan on

Insert, that it is. Thanks for reading and commenting
E x

Author Page at the 'Zon
 

Submitted by Di_Hard on

I appreciate this poem, being reminded this happened to someone else too

I found the photo bit very interesting, because it is weird seeing someone you know with someone you don't know, in a photo. But also because dementia can make someone unreachable as in a photo

 

Submitted by Ewan on

and commenting. It's a cruel disease and no mistake.

E x

Author Page at the 'Zon