I seek and never find
all it is that I have forgotten,
wings from fairies
grown dusty in the attic
and grapes carved
into newel posts,
the spores of woodworm
that I spray
and run my hands.
I love walnut
it is a gentle wood
but I do not recall
the mahogany of a
card table
that I hit and broke a corner off.
Were we playing or fighting
or dreaming and dancing
I recall and then forget
the memories
the glue that holds it together
and the jagged remains
of stitches that each time
I brush my hair
I caress the very edges.
I still prefer walnut
or cherry
or the Italian marble
that someone tried to varnish
and I spent hours removing.
I sit and bead jewels
long broken
onto strands
the strands of us
and a family at war.
Sometimes I hear
and then I claim deafness
the wind that blows
a mistral of breeze
and how it so disturbs
and the touch of someones lips.
I dust down the silver fox
and trim the feathers
for a night as a victorian lady
resplendent in her velvet gown
forgetting mothballs
and worm and frayed lace.
I think I'll dust the
fairy wings
and fly with Peter Pan again.

Poetry by Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 388 times
Written on 2019-09-08 at 18:55

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Keep dusting those fairy wings and fly Elle, for me this piece reminds me I'm aging and there's that looking back a lot more often these days.

one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
Yours poems are so often poignant, this one very much so. They evoke images of a golden, magical time. They leave me feeling wistful, and thoughtful of passing moments.