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.