Poem by Carolyn O’Connell

CHAIR

I still see you sitting on the old chair now you’ve gone;
your back supported by pillows that remain in place,
your brown hair was falling over your shoulders as
the sun sets behind you. Curved arms embraced
you in a cane cuddle sweeping down the legs.

I recall those long gone days before you painted it
to match your pale pink room when you were a girl.
The cane had shone with planes of polish spread
by generations of women; a wicker diamond woven
into its back was patterned blue, red and green.

Looking now, I want to restore it, return it
to how I remember when you were a baby,
so it will glow again as the evening sun glances
with a kiss through the window replaying the day
you sat there reading, the child inside you – growing.

I knock softly, listening for you voice,
you are seated again in the old chair,
your head bent over, lighted by
the morning sun seeping through blue curtains
throwing sapphire patterns over your hair,

shading the pillow laid on your knees,
you’re bent over nursing your new daughter
as I once nursed you on that chair:
daughter has become mother, mother, grandmother
each life woven as if warp and weft of the cane.

Carolyn O’Connell
Timelines_front_300 (1)

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. carolynoconnell
    Sep 18, 2015 @ 19:00:05

    Reblogged this on Carolyn O' Connell and commented:
    Many thanks to Angela for this

    Reply

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