Just want to share this poem with you.
In the Attic
Even though we know now
your clothes will never
be needed, we keep them,
upstairs in a locked trunk.
Sometimes I kneel there,
holding them, trying to relive
time you wore them, to remember
the actual shape of arm and wrist.
My hands push down between
hollow, invisible sleeves,
hesitate, then lift
patterns of memory:
a green holiday, a red christening,
all your unfinished lives
fading through dark summers,
entering my head as dust.
By Andrew Motion
Taken from The Penguin Book of Contemporary British Poetry.
5 comments:
Hi Alson -- just realised you've linked me from your blog :)
Thanks -- but is possible to change it to a p.EE instead of pea?
cos I've an incurably filthy mind, not so much a peanut-sized one. :)
thankos!
Sure Pei Ling, no problem. :)
thank you! :)
How did you stumble on my site anyway?
Oh, there is a link to your blog in The Poetry Billboard. :)
Very nice poem, thanks.
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