Withered and brown am I
by season's circumstance,
though dead to all stimuli
to the wind's song I dance.
Now autumn is all I know,
winter my only aim;
springtime was so long ago
but summer never came
A stirring now deep inside
becomes the sweetest pain,
my one love will near reside
but plays a wilful game.
Summer is a blooming cloud
for all the world to see,
my heart full and booming loud
because my love loves me.
Comments
Oh Keith, this is lovely. I
Oh Keith, this is lovely. I enjoyed this. A beautiful homage, which I had assumed was to your wife, but having read your last comment, I probably got that wrong.
Am I right in thinking it once again refers to Persuasion, when Captain Wentworth realises Anne loves him after all.
My mind is a bit woolly at the moment and not very focused. Some might say - no change there then!
Jx
Yes indeed
During an extended stay in hospital some years back when, among other things, I could not concentrate to read - a sentence or two and my head started swimming, I chose to write some poetry about the characters of Jane Austen, as I had recently read her books. Indeed I had to retire at that point and as part of a leaving present was given her novels as spoken books. Anyway, as you might imagine most of the fifty plus poems I wrote were dire. Every now and then I dig through them to find one I feel like updating. She is still, by far, my favourite author.
Well this isn't dire, I loved
Well this isn't dire, I loved it. Jx
Well
It has been reworked before posting. I will doubtless do the same with most of those other poems in the course of time. Rework that is, not necessarily post.