Wednesday, November 10, 2010

A Catalog Poem

Leaving

Gone from the window, sheer drape gently sweeping.
Gone from the table, leaving no reply.
Gone from my lap, slipping down, turning, running.
Gone. Wisps of farewell.

Gone to the sound of laughter in the garden.
Gone with clatter of running in the hall.
Gone to the scraps of re-conversation.
Gone, I follow senses, thoughts, more.
Gone, I sit.

 
Linked to TheHighCalling.org with
 
 

4 comments:

Mozi Esme said...

Gone, yet still lingering. There are a myriad of meanings you can take from this...

L.L. Barkat said...

"Gone from the table, leaving no reply"

That was a strong one. I can feel it.

Susanne Barrett said...

Beautiful poem, Kath. I feel the strong sense of being bereft--so effective.

Stephie Goldfish said...

Kath, Thank you for leaving a comment over at my poem / post.

Your poem got me too. It felt like an unraveling of a tapestry. Very sad also.

Stephie