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The Bedroom Window, by Ian Fletcher

10/8/2016

 
From their bedroom window I observe
the silver birch across the back garden
a swirling late autumn breeze
stripping the old tree of its leaves
which unswept have obliterated
the patch of grass below
the very same tree they would have seen
undrawing their curtains in dawns long passed
when the grass there was still green,
but this is late afternoon and the garden
has changed from when this place was known
not as ‘my parents’ house’ but my home.


Nothing remains the same and so it is here
with everything neglected and overgrown
weeds ravaging the flowerbeds once
nurtured and tended by my mother
until her last illness kept her indoors.
Now I am an inheritor, debating whether
to sell the house that binds me to it still
as if under some dark parental spell.


Yet this garden is peopled only with my
memories and there are no ghosts
haunting the uncut lawns and the flowerbeds
only the leaves from the silver birch
falling
layer upon layer
onto the back lawn
burying the scenes from long ago
as I look out of the bedroom window.
Gordon Lawrie
10/8/2016 11:41:27 am

I really like this poem, Ian. I like the way it gently covers themes so familiar to almost all of us.

Ian Fletcher
10/8/2016 01:16:36 pm

Thanks,Gordon. It's kind of therapeutic writing such poems too (as I hope it may be also for the readers).

Fiona Saunders-Priem
13/8/2016 10:31:56 pm

A poem which touches the heart, Ian, and conjures up wistful images of autumnal decay and old memories after the death of one's parents. Yet it's peaceful and satisfying to read, in tune with nature and the seasons. I like it.

Ian Fletcher
14/8/2016 03:49:27 am

Thanks for the perceptive comments, Fiona!


Comments are closed.

    Poetry

    This is the section where fiction prose becomes something else. We still expect the poems to be short, though – sonnets, perhaps, or around that length at the very most.

    Poems submitted should be
    no longer than 160 words
    and contain
    no more than 16 lines.

    100 words remains the approximate target...

    AND SO THEREFORE:
    We have decided
    We really don't like haikus
    They're not proper verse.


    Please submit using the Poetry Submissions Page.


    Please feel free to comment (nicely!) on any poems – writers appreciate it.
    Just at the moment, though, we're moderating some of them so there might be a slight delat before they appear.

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