Salad Days

It could be a hundred years ago
just squabbling birds
and a woodpecker
doing what a woodpecker pecks
and if it wasn't for the distant sound
of a car, it would
if it only could, be a hundred years ago.
Sitting in front of an unchanged facade
on an ancient and rusting wrought iron
slatted seat, cushions faded
once sky blue now filled
with sun sores, and scores
of unstitched memories
of daisies in May and lilies
in this, a warm September day
filled with Autumn thoughts
as a dry leaf floats
the amber sipped and preserved.
It could be a hundred years ago
ruined by faded denim shorts
and only a straw hat that frays,
strays at the dreams, hands reaching
if to catch a thousand falling leaves
that will bring me wishes by the score,
of love and laughter
perhaps a happy ever after
to join up dots and chains of flowers
complete a circle as a ginger puss purrs.
Aubergine colours, and the flower from courgette
completes a salad, in this my fall days
before winter casts its chill.

Poetry by Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 152 times
Written on 2020-09-19 at 19:19

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text

There is something about your descriptive words that just makes me close my eyes and see a clear and distinct image in my mind. I love the words you choose to set your scene.

jim The PoetBay support member heart!
This is stunningly beautiful and evocative.

You draw me in to your day in such a way it's almost like water falling it flows so well! How you are in the present and the past at the same time is such skilled writing.