I ... entered the poem of life, whose purpose is ... simply to witness the beauties of the world,
to discover the many forms that love can take. (Barabara Blackman in 'Glass After Glass')

This blog is not, 'Here are my very best poems'. It's for work in progress, subject to revision.
Posts may be updated without notice at any time. Completed work appears in my books.

12 July 2010

The Helpers

In the waiting room one white-haired woman
has a walking-stick painted from handle to tip
in a garden of florals, pretty as a summer dress.

Another has decorated her wheely-walker
in big bright stickers, joyous as a children’s party —
butterflies, and her name: Eunice.

Andrew’s walker is unadorned black. It’s new
and has the wide wheels that are better on carpet.
I tell myself its plainness means it isn’t permanent.

2 comments:

  1. touching scene. the gathered pieces.

    Garden and earth energies to you both.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thanks! He is sitting out in the sun sometimes, overlooking our garden, or even going for short walks up to the end of the street.

    ReplyDelete