I like this one...a lot.
SOUTHERNDOWN by Hilary Wyn Williams
The cottage smells of wet dog,
Last year's sandwich spread and memories.
Your shoulder's force is requisite
To budge the sticking frames of doors and windows
Swollen by the laden brume of seaside air.
A yellowed Sunday Times finds new employment now
To scrub the salt film from the patchwork panes
And give the ocean view again to us.
The rifts and valleys of the tera-cotta tile
Are treacherous still, a testament to shifting time;
The narrow quilted bed groans disbelief at our return,
Too old to witness all the joy we'll find.
,,,
I rest my cheek against the thickness of the sill
And chip the blistered paintwork with my nail.
I'll do my writing here
And gaze long hours at the roiling sea,
The kettle whining testily against the breeze.
And you'll step up behind me,
Anchor me within your arm
And fit against me, jigsaw snug,
My missing puzzle piece.
updated by @americymru: 11/24/19 06:16:51PM
