There's a wicker chair In a second-floor room, Where she sits as still As the space between the sky and the sill In her time to just be. She used to watch the time fly by, Now it ebbs and flows As her willow tree grows In the frame of a big bay window, In her time to just be. Then one day in spring, In her time to just be, She saw wind tangle knots, In her flat sheets and socks, And her fingers - twisted and curled, Looked like branches of willow. When summer came, With sun licked leaves, And barbeque tastes On the tail of the breeze, She lingered still, calm and at ease, In her time to just be. Then summer expired, In a long exhale, And from twisted fingers a leaf fell, Then autumn arrived, armed with a brush, Painting the land with fire and blush, But still she stayed, As leaves fell, and the willow swayed, In her time to tell. Now let me tell, That the land lay still, With snow thick on her windowsill, The wicker chair, an empty place, The willow tree, an empty space, A fallen branch, lay on the ground, The snow fell without a sound. A cold teacup with unread leaves In a time a to just breath.
I am filled with vitamin D, with a pink
lemonade kiss and a fancy free
Candy floss smile.
It is a marvellous and menacing mischief
that had now pumped up my heart,
and a vitamin glee that I have swallowed.
Rays of sunbeams are hiding in my sweater
and my unshaven legs – prickling
with joy, how glorious to be shown the light.
I am shimmering and dancing in my pants,
and there is a party in my bed socks –
And they rock, because bed socks do that.
And if my eyes were as blue as the sky
-and they are as blue as the sky,
they would be lost, in disguise and forever.
“What is this poem you ask me muse?”
“What is its purpose?”
“The purpose my beautiful fairy-tale wife,
Is that summer came for a day,
Like sand in my toes and a three wheeler bike
It snapped its elastic on my bum cheek and cheered.”
©Eilidh G Clark