The Lavender Rocker
By Silver Spun Sand
Sat, 12 Sep 2015
- 973 reads
4 comments
She outbid me at auction –
the girl in a beat-up, green,
MGB GT;
a French bergère affair; cane seat –
shiny rosewood rockers, with gold
and silver finials and hand-carved back.
Not a chance of shifting it in her car
so, I offered mine, and in her tiny,
basement flat, helped her paint it,
a paler shade of purple.
Problem was, when it rocked to
and fro, it kind of squeaked. Promised
to oil it – except I never did.
And tonight, on an evening, softer
than a moth’s kiss on a brink-pink rose...
the rain, thrumming a largo beat
on a weeping window-pane,
I smell her hair, taste her skin,
and all because of a lavender chair –
once played its own sweet tune to the song
that was us, became an elegy
to once-upon-a-time.
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Comments
Tina,
Tina,
How do you come up with descriptions like 'softer than a moth’s kiss on a brink-pink rose... '? Wonderful!
Moya
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I love your descriptions.
Permalink Submitted by Deliberately Ev... on
I love your descriptions. They are so unusual. I so enjoy reading your poems.
The beat of your heart is the mellifluent rhythm to my soul.
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