Wish you were here
December 28, 2006
The day you came home early,
cut short your visit,
phoning me from the station
train tannoys and people
blaring in my ears.
That day in summer
when I was in those
lush fields of green grass
when I was with my own thoughts,
sitting drawing clouds and pylons.
The day that was the next day after
I’d come back from being abroad
and we’d only seen each other
to fall asleep, before you
packed your bags to go.
That day you called me up and said
“I’m back” that you were
going to leave the telling
until you’d reached my
front door. That day-
when I had other plans
when I wasn’t expecting you,
didn’t need you, when every fibre wasn’t
screaming in its nerve to
be with you-
is not today.
This reminds me of drawing a scene/object by drawing the negative spaces. Suddenly the lines all come together so that you can see the object defined by them – just as you write about an emotion by describing its opposite, and then in the last line it all becomes clear what it’s really about. That line has such impact.
Thanks Catherine, what a thoughtful response. Much appreciated.
Feels like a poem of bad timing … of almost, but not quite … beautiful prose and imagery. Much peace & Happy New Year wishes, JP
hello lydia
are you ok?
am missing your blogs
xxx
Hi Lydia, I’ve just read this poem again, and I like it even more this time around. You have such a delicate way with language, like a flutist playing every note flawlessly without seeming to apply any pressure to the keys. You make it look easy. Bravo.
Hi Fishbone,
Yes, I’m ok, just gone into slight hibenation over Christmas and New Year. Making things out of buttons and forgetting how to talk to anything other than a button. Also ill. Flu. Well, possibly cold, but the reasons for blog-itis have been stacking up. Will start again soon.
Hey Dana,
That’s really cheered me up. I wasn’t feeling very good about the above piece, but getting such positive feedback really forces me to be less hard on myself. You’re lovely.
and Janepoe,
Yes, a poem about bad timing. In the end he came home a day early.