and

[wytchcroft]

and scarlet ribboned
woven round
these autumn trails

blown to a stand still
grave and gray
such a little way

a pause for thought
to feel the rain
the pressure on the glass

the curving track
where they laid her down
between the summer and the grass

it's an empty room
and a speaker phone
it's a rusty tongue
and guide

the yellowed book
that Beckett wrote
has coffee stains inside.

Comments

[stoshagownozad.livejournal.com]

so autumn:)

[wytchcroft.livejournal.com]

as it is here :))

bravo!

[irishunchik.livejournal.com]

from these lines i can feel and see moment and place.

спасибо!

[wytchcroft.livejournal.com]

i'm glad you liked it :))

[reginaclarejane.livejournal.com]

Oh, this is amazing, Nic. Intriguing with those last few stanzas... esp. the 4th one... who is "her"? It's so poignant, that stanza...
This poem is a full one, my friend. Very well done.
:)

[wytchcroft.livejournal.com]

well it is finger painting but it felt true.
(and i LOVE a scarlet autumn!)

and there was so much Beckett yesterday - at home, work, in an internet interview i read and even chalissa's journal.

i just finished re-reading a book by him as well, which has many memories attached to it.

as for 'her' well... *clams up*

thanks indeed for reading and the kind comment!
:))