http://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/
Who could have expected such numbing pain
Or that something as completely mundaneAs a shovel
Leaning against the plum-tree
Would be the undoing
Of carefully protected stitches
Loss has many faces
And leaps from unwary places
The wind cannot set a-drift need
Anymore than a thousand friends
Can replace the missing of you, my love
How perpetually longing can bleed
Easily, as yarn unravels from torn sweaters
Memories spill from tear-worn letters
And mere thought cannot stop its undoing
‘Darling, remember our pledge at the plum-tree, because’
Your words blur; a shovel is futile
When trying to bury the past... and us
Janet~
Wow! The last two lines of this wordle take my breath away! A wonderfully STRONG end to a strong poem, which really uses the wordle words to the fullest.
ReplyDeletePowerhouse of a poem, Janet. It sucks the breath right out of you, just as such a loss does. Excellently written.
ReplyDeleteLove your header image too; I haven't lived in snow country for a few years now, but that photo takes me back to New England.
Mary and Traci, Thank-you so much.
ReplyDeleteTraci, you are a wise woman;) You've traded the shovel for beach umbrella perhaps:)?
Happy New Year, Janet! Traci is right...this is a powerhouse of a poem. You took the shovel to an interesting intimacy. I loved my stop here, rich with story...
ReplyDeletePowerful. The last two lines are superb.
ReplyDelete