Unaccustomed
How unaccustomed am I
To the touch of my own hand
on my face
How unaccustomed
To droplets on my skin
And playfully drenched hair
As I dance in the rain
Unaccustomed
To the light of a candle
The shapes of clouds
And fullness in a starry sky
How unaccustomed
To the fragrant scent
of homemade cookies;
the smell of home
How unaccustomed am I
To the chime of a tinkling bell,
My mother's voice
And the sight of my own reflection
Copyright © Stuart Clements | Year Posted 2008
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