Your room is warm and smells of you,
Details linger long after you are gone.
I sometimes sit and stare at the view you had,
When you lived here, the house, it shone.
Ambition flowed through your veins,
Alongside a good dose of questioning self.
You focused and aimed, letting your arrow of hope
Fly towards your goal, and achieved it no less.
I had not realised how helpless being a parent can leave you,
When no longer do you need me each day.
But I smile as I iron your bedding.
Because you love that I respect it your way.
I rarely write poetry because it requires concentration,
And rambling is more easy to write.
Also it bugs me that my head makes them rhyme,
When there are no rules, wrong or right.
Should really crack on with my work now,
Been good pausing to see if I can..
.. type off a few lines while I prepare for your return.
Won’t see you this week – I’ll be in Milan!
(Ahh .. that’s better!
Half hour fiddling about getting daughter’s bedroom ready and I’ve morphed from teeny bit down to bubbly and excited again. Because I wrote 👌🏼 – and typed some thoughts to you simultaneously! I’ll press publish, but won’t hesitate to delete later if no-one likes. While blogging is not solely about likes, it is a lot about recognition for your work. Not just by readers, but by yourselves. Hence, if no-one likes this, I shall recognise that I need to write those moments in a private diary to be burned sometime and not to waste perfectly good iCloud space and reader’s precious minutes!!) 🌸
PS … having just read an amazing blog about writing first drafts, I feel all inspired and focused again. Thank you Phoebe Morgan🥂