The ghost of myself is haunting my life

Gold velvet

Warm sun
Soaks through
My gold velvet curtains

Like all my childhood Christmases
Like I never left home
Or grew up
Like my mum never died
And my father,
kissed me good night

My mother kept dried spaghetti in a tall glass jar, on the windowsill.
Long golden pasta, dreaming of fields,
warmed, by the late, afternoon sun
I see our little garden,
magnified through it.

On the neatest square of lawn
My bright green memory, shimmers,
mowing strips for dad,
Surrounded by tidy beds, of mother’s multicoloured joy.

The same tree, of twinkling lights.
Year after year.
Planted at the bottom of the garden.
Growing up with me,
year after year

My mother,
through the white halo of the serving hatch.
Plates simply appearing.
Sitting around the table
Same chairs
Same knives and forks
Mats in place
Family in place
Everything simple
Everything simpler

I am no longer there
I’m flicking through memories,
across the dining room table.
Everyone staring out at me,
from their own past.

The house that felt big,
with so many rooms,
has wrapped around me now

My brothers,
who were small,
below my bunk bed.
Loom over my life,
with families of their own.

My childhood, burns through the glow
Brought back,
by golden light.
Warming my cheeks,
I sleep, happy,
all night.


Red Gull


Footprints on Holy Island

1 Comment

  1. Best Poetry Reviews

    I think this is your best poem that I’ve read so far…

    It feels easy and mature but very honest and sweet.

    Childhood memories are such powerful things for us all and this really resonates with me.

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