Thursday, 23 October 2008

Remembering A Place

The tapping of the rain, trickles in my ears,
My mind slowly wakes and before me all appears
As it was when I drifted into peace the previous night,
But more vivid now
It's illuminated under a new day's winter light.

Outside the morning's grey and veiled with a mist,
Someone calls my name, but this comfort I can't resist.
This rectangle of rest: pillows, quilts and sheets,
My ever ready friend, my weariness it defeats.

The simple smell of fresh linen, another reason to not part
With this perfect nest, from which every morning must start.
Engulfed between these covers I hear the rain turn to hail
And smile to myself because I know now I will fail

To leave this protection against winter weather
And the cold.
This cocoon in which I hide,
Where I'll stay until I'm old.

A.Fearn of DMU

1 comment:

Jonathan Taylor said...

Dear Andy,

Thanks for posting this. My favourite line here is: "This rectangle of rest: pillows, quilts and sheets" - an original way of describing a bed. I'm not convinced by some of the rhymes - perhaps you could experiment by getting rid of the rhyme and seeing what happens to the poem's form?

Thanks, Jonathan