Yellow

After the snowdrops
have shown themselves
hope contained within
the petals
comes the gorse
with its yellow flowers
lining the hedgerows.

Then the daffodils,
bright yellow, spring
up in clusters by the side
of the road, lanes, woods, banks,
a vibrant burst of colour
welcome after the grey and the cold.

Then the primrose,
nestling under hedges
and bushes, pale yellow
dotting the landscape,
beckoning spring closer.

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After the Snow

Sunshine melts the snow
blue skies, round white balls,
as big as barrels
the remains of snowmen
linger in green fields, lonely.

Snowdrops re-emerge from under
their temporary winter blanket
and it’s as if,
it was never there at all.

 

 

Snow Fall

Snow comes unexpected,
falling heavy, traffic chaos
standstill.

In the morning,
sunlight dances on white,
a cat’s pawprints mar
the pure white blanket,
branches are covered in an icing layer.

Snow begins to melt
blades of grass poke through,
snowdrops clinging on.
Spring is still coming.

 

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Over

thoughts fly free as I drive
further further
weights taking off
as the miles roll under me
the wheels turning
over over
I cross the water
the ropes that bind me
are cut free
and I return
to me
little
by
little
as
I
fly
again.

Blow Away

I held tightly onto your hand
afraid that I was so small
I would fly away in the wind
like a lost balloon.

I thought if I ever let go
I might dance away
like the fluttering leaves
that were falling on my head.

But when I did let go,
taller and less likely to
blow away I found
that I didn’t need
to hold on, and I was
able to stand alone.

The Hotel with the Blue Windows

I

When she first came to the hotel, the window frames had been newly painted and the stench of fresh paint hung around, impossible to mask. Everything else was newly painted too. She was the first person to stay in that room, with its new springy bed, pure white bed linen, as yet unmarked with stains, and cheaply framed reproduction prints hanging on the walls.

It wasn’t perfect – the shower leaked, the bed was creaky, and the room was stuffy and airless. But she had stayed in worse places.

II

The paint on the windows is flaking now, peeling away as it faces the elements. She is still there. She never left. The cracks are showing – not only in the paint, but everywhere, for the hotel is worn and run down. There are no other guests these days.

The blue windowed hotel does not admit them anymore.

Misty Rememberings [prompt]

Early morning mist covers the lawns
as the sun comes up – blue skies
a bright day is promised.
The earth is scorched – it has been
warm, too warm and the grass
is brittle and crisp, brown now.
signs of the past
have been revealed
the earth peeling back, revealing
what is past
a garden once there,
foundations of a building that once
stood – long gone.
the heat reveals it all
strips back to the past
to what has been buried and forgotten –
it now lies on the surface
ready to be discovered.

II
It was a formal garden once
laid out and cared for by a team of gardeners
now it is just grass, the secrets
of the past have been long covered up
there is nothing to show –
but the past remains
to haunt them, long after it’s gone.

an old walkway long covered by water
stripped back to walk across again
a village buried and forgotten
now emerging from the water.
lost foundations and runways
echoes of buildings once there.