Saturday, 25 April 2009


( A friend visited, and did not like to see the tears in my eyes, my tiredness. "I am a river of sadness, " I sighed. "Well you can't be," he said sternly. "There's no such thing. Rivers move and change and take things away with them and pick things up, like flowers and happiness. Write me a happy poem!"
So Giles, here is my happy poem. It is the story of my first walk in too many weeks to count.)

Under a blanket of sky
We walked, my brother and I
down to the field of gold.
You pulled up a blue chair
I sat like a queen
in the path of bees
and butterflies
and seeds.
I wiggled my toes
in the cool fresh grass
and unfurled my wings
a little, at last.
You plucked me a flower
Pink on the rim, yellow within
Oh magical hour
Walking in the light
Under a blanket of sky
My big brother and I.
blog comments powered by Disqus