Interior
Interior
The glass shades hang on chains
A thin glowing light begins to fill
Creating shadows in the room
Across the pictures on the wall
Weddings of children flown
How lonely now you have become
The needles click against the clock
Your concentration is complete
Lips deployed to count the loops
Tight as your corner where
Your chair is drawn to feel the heat
Sharp sparks spit from the fuel
You collected from the beach,
The widow and her pram of coal
A circumstance that feels so cruel
And hope seems out of reach.
The smell of bacon penetrates
The air still cold with winter breath
A permanence in spite of death
The sandwich that is breakfast
The swede the leek the carrot
The bones of homemade broth.
The thoughts that run inside your mind
I could not begin to guess, before this time
Your life not mine, are secrets left untold
The war you fought, your children grown
The depth of love and loss you've known.
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