A Step Forward In Time
Reading Time: 3 minutes
The sun will be beating down on the castine, And those cigales They’ll still be chirping to a beat. There will be the sound of warm breeze Filtering through the verdant trees And here and there A lone leaf will flutter down, Prematurely browned By the vicious Summer heat. The lavender plants will have grown woody But will still be visited by gently buzzing bees. And in the lower field, from time to time, A fractious sheep Its baffled note will bleat . Between these the paving stones of nature – Will be the cracks Silences of wondrous, bewildering heat, And Light … Sunlight … Golden Magnificent Ultimately most divine Blinding with all its might. Yet in the shady spot between house and rocks, Where the leaves from Winter, dried and brown, Create a carpet for phantom feet, There is a spooky cool That you cannot ignore. Vigorous weeds are enjoying a freedom They never had – Until, The front door closed that last and dreadful time. On the outside The door will be baking hot in the West’s afternoon sun – Too hot to touch. Too hot to handle. While inside – On the cool bed, Incomplete for any travel Lies an open suitcase. It is squidging up the dusty sheet. A ladies pantie – vainly enticing – Its lacy edge halfway in and halfway out – hangs, languidly, over the case’s edge. Denied darkness, the room is illuminated By a shaft of sunlight Dynamically squeezed Speared Through the dried wooden shutters. Nothing stirs inside. Not even dust motes. The air is motionless. There is a drinking glass Still beside the bed. Its water, Evaporated over time, Has left a ring of white To show its former level. And the pillows still display depressions Showing where their heads had lain. The house has a stillness. An emptiness. A darkened lounge with deadened TV; Kitchen with silent clock at ten past three; Staircase now too old to creak in vain. Only the bathroom tap has life. As it drips, Silently, And sadly, Once a day – To mark the passing time. Each drip a tear for what was And for what might have been Who on Earth could say? Had he not slipped on the staircase. All those months ago . Had she not found it intolerable to stay Breathing the same air they’d shared. Had she not shivered, Cold, In the heat, When scattering his grey dust To make hallowed gravel paths After he had taken that … One step forward in time. © Allen Ansell 2009, 2023
Thoughtful and wonderful poem.
You can certainly see your writing skills in your work. All the time go after your heart.
Hi there, I discovered your website by means of Google, it seems great. I've bookmarked it in my google bookmarks.
Thanks for sharing!
I am genuinely thankful to the holder of this website who has shared this .