Poetry Pleases: Visiting The Past
Jane Williams, moved to the depths of her being by the loss of her partner and lover, wrote this profoundly sad, beautiful poem.
There was a time when you and I lived in this house
and leaned out from low windows to smell
the flowering limes which wafted such fragrance
that we willingly forgave their sticky drips.
Here we casually dropped down our days
curled up our evenings on squashy chairs
and wound our nights together.
We watched the moon netted in the branches
of our apple tree draw scribbled patterns
on the white counterpane
or darkly fret our pale nakedness.
Surely our voices still echo through these rooms
my frocks still slip capriciously from lurching hangers
your more conforming shirts rest soberly in drawers.
Surely my breath still moves the candle flame
and your ghost shadows the turning stair.
So I will leave you here, your hand holding
a watercolour brush, head bent, intent,
laughing at my jokes,
brushing away my tears for the loss of you,
remembering your taste upon my tongue
and that faint whiff of Dutch Aromatic
that went along with you.
The lime trees are in bloom today.
I smile, take a deep breath, a last long look,
turn and walk away.
