In pots by my doorway,
the lavender’s floral notes
are written in the spidery hand
of Edwardian petticoats.
Legions of maiden aunts
with talcum powder skin
bestowing spinster kisses
from a wrinkled, whiskered chin.
Will I become a memory
evoked by summer scents
Will I dance in, on the breeze
once my life is spent.
I read it as it sounded in my head
https://soundcloud.com/user-391664655/scent
Comments
Agree with you Mark re the
Agree with you Mark re the summer's scents and lost the 's'
Jx
we all come to go
and
leave behind sweeter memories
if we did love someone
and
please
lovely flowery poetry
nectarily
Hi Jane
'Twas too soft for me to hear on my tablet * sad face*
I really enjoyed reading it however...
Lovely gentle write
Lol made me think that perhaps one wouldn't want to smell your rotting corpse dancing on the breeze.... sorry, bit cheeky :)
Of course I did get the entendre regarding the perfume of the memory of you, so please don't fret...
Nothing to crit - it is a very smooth write
Absolutely love
'the lavender’s floral notes
are written in the spidery hand
of Edwardian petticoats.'
Love judy
xxx
.
entendre
entendre
added to my dictionary
under compilation
ma'am
do shed your anger meditation may help
as it has me no waffle nor piffle
lonely sailor -poet me
endeavouring to be
happeeeey
Thanks
Thanks to all for stopping by to read and offer your thoughts.
I kept coming back to this, because initially, I hadn't quite got all the inferences I wanted in.
I changed the 'remembering the aunties' to a legion of maiden aunts, I wanted a link as to why we had a generation of spinster aunts.
I wanted a little nugget of Edwardian England, carried on the breeze, by something as simple as the scent of lavender. I wanted to link the sense of smell and memory.
The next generation won't remember the things I do, but my generation will become part of their memory.