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.
Mid April, calm yet breezy night, I walked in the dark and was guided by moonlight. The world was silent and the only sound were the leaves in the tree’s and my feet on the ground. Alas I was tempted by songs in my pocket And the picture of you that hung in my locket, But I felt that a change had grown wild in my brain Like the seasons were changing, and so was the pain, A stranger had challenged my withering heart Twas the first real arousal since we’d been apart, I looked at a distance but fantasised near and the prospect of new love sent shivers of fear. But she clawed like a blackbird at passions inside And I craved her like coffee like a moon and the tide. She danced on my gravestone, she lay on my skin And she started a bonfire that burned from within But the night was so lonely and the stars became shy As the moon rode the heavens and rivers ran dry. I looked to the shadows to picture her face But shadows are demons that laughed in its place And leaves brown and crisp sung tunes to my feet The drizzle of rain arose perfumes so sweet And the dark was forever and my thoughts took flight She kissed me so tender in all shades of night. But the season was April and the time was ‘not yet’ And the moonlight was kind and my destiny set.
Eilidh G Clark 