Barry Stebbings Poet Quatrain

Notes About The Poem

The Sitter

The Sitter

     Nothing disturbed the tranquil air,
     The tick, tick of the time-worn clock.
     The sitter in the wooden chair
     Not hearing the gentle, gentle knock.

     An old, old man by the broken door,
     Breathed in the still, still air.
     The sitter looked but did know
     The man who entered there.

     ‘Who are you?’ the sitter asked,
     ‘I am Memory?’ the man replied
     As the quiet, quiet sitter gazed
     Upon a face once recognised.

     Memory, seeing no thought to share,
     Lingered a short, short while
     And the sitter in the wooden chair
     Smiled a faint, faint smile

     And the clock measured the stillness
     As the man left the calm, calm room.
     And the sitter sat in silence,
     Alone in the still, still room.

     Barry Stebbings
     22/04/2016

♡Like0

Share Poem

---

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment