picture from tess at magpie tales no.93

by c.donnier-valentin

Bag Lady

my back so sore

found

by way of a miracle

under the arches

of Saint Pancras

a raspberry red,

if somewhat dusty

sofa

 itchy velvet reminded me

of the seats on the number 47 bus

on my daily ride to school

i think it was in '41

that was some time ago

the trains lulled me asleep

slumber only disturbed by the uninterested revelers

who passed by loudly unseeing

in the night

i clutched my bags closer and turned my back

to dream of better times to come.

the roosting pigeons cooed and fluttered

 my alarm call at dawn

i stretched old bones creakily

to another day

wandering the city

hopeful that my bed 

may remain another night

abandoned.

I once read that we are all only two steps away from being homeless, i can think of nothing worse that being in that situation, to have nowhere to call home.

white linen

steam rises from the board

the lavender scent engulfing me

crisp white linen

now flat

and

tucked in

waits for the curve of your body

Magpie tales prompt from Tess at Willow Manor.

breathe

I have waited for what seems
like a lifetime of time and space
for this moment
we have loved and lost
been lost and found 
beholden,betrayed
idolized and scorned.
we have
fallen in love
and fallen out so often 
and not  just with each another

and yet I always knew
that one day
you would return
so here we are
with the mist just rising
as the dawn breaks
with the debris of last night
laid waste
come let me skim the dew from your brow
and gather the perfume of lost time
in my cupped hands
may i breathe the future into us
and hope 
that i am yours.





Magpie tales with prompt photo from tess.

Remembrance Day

Standing here,

my heart beats fast with emotion

pin pricks of scarlet on my cheeks.

The rough worsted collar

grey-green, chaffs my fragile skin,

while coloured ribbons of medals sway

slower in time now the march has stopped

the brisk November wind 

makes them clink

now and again.

My body soft with age trembles

as the minutes tick by

the birds overhead are the only sound

as we stand lost in our silent thoughts

of battle

fear

exhaustion

sadness

of aeroplanes screeching, 

gunfire thundering 

and as the dust settles
triumph is marred by

the counting of despair.

My rheumy eyes focus on the plain white stone ahead

arthritic fingers clasp

the wreath of poppies.

The last post echoes through the cemetery. 

I walk to lay my tribute 

my fallen comrades surround me 

on this Remembrance Day.




This is my entry for Magpie tales from Tess's prompt