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')

These poems are works in progress and may be updated without notice. Nevertheless copyright applies to all writings here and all photos (which are either my own or used with permission). Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your blog posts as much as possible.

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.
By -
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2 comments:

  1. Pearl18 July 2010 at 11:48

    touching scene. the gathered pieces.

    Garden and earth energies to you both.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Rosemary Nissen-Wade18 July 2010 at 12:22

    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

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