John Lusardi – Then & Now
Then & Now
The fox-gloved summer has tripped away;
Winter slips quietly into,
The far corner of comfort.
And the mouse sized room sleeps.
Night has stolen day’s short hours;
Pulling at the rare white light.
It tip toes past, in a dust stream.
Cold glass holed; and damp cardboard,
Subdue the pin-pointed reflections.
And darkness has side-stepped itself.
Slowly, daylight drips itself into,
Watery, blurred, sleep filled eyes;
A jig-sawed dawn arrives in pieces.
Blue chilled noses appear,
From winter pressing heavy;
Frosted jack! Slips white on grey slate.
Frozen breath particles float, upward;
The shy sun mixes stiff shadows;
Cold toes string-like pegs to the floor.
Smell hot tea! Drifting in a saucer,
It snakes bendy in the stair well;
The heady scent sweet, to the senses.
Yawning and warm a pot black stove,
Creeks-crack! The pale morning open,
A thin day slides in under the door.
Accompanied by voices, carrying tears.
- Posted in: Poetry