The Placement
by
Christine Bryant
dcbryant@blueyonder.co.uk
I'm sitting in my garden, grey of hair
and lined of face
My outer shell is wrapped up well for Autumn's chill embrace
Beyond, the roar of progress threatens all who mark its call
Within, my sweet September cradles tired leaves mid-fall.
I hold a Book of Glimpses, safe betwixt my weathered hands,
whose pages conjure sounds and smells a
memory understands.
Within my heart emotion drives a bargain with regret,
for
captured souls in negative, too precious to forget.
Between those portals walks a child, a ghost of yesteryear,
who freely roams the roads of life without constraint of
fear.
How well I know the scenes she plays, each fraction of
the past,
familiar the atmosphere, beloved each, the cast.
I'll love it where they've placed me I'm
constantly assured.
There's far too much to entertain a hope
of being bored.
They'll bring me in
for Autumn and put me out for Spring.
I'll no longer be a burden, that's the
most important thing.
I'm
sitting in a garden, grey of hair and lined of face.
My treasured things are stored away so now I need less
space.
©2009 Christine Bryant
Christine would love
to hear what you think of her poem - email
her now
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