Morning In St. Paul
First feathered rays of early sun
brush the tips of the cottonwood
on the corner,
a lone robin carols welcome.
Coffee mug in hand,
Coffee mug in hand,
she walks from the porch
to the newly green grass.
A garbage truck lumbers
down the alley in the next block,
mechanical groans destroying
the bucolic silence.
Soon the neighborhood will
come alive with the sounds
of children and school buses,
dog walkers and people
hurrying out into the world,
leaving behind the old lady
with her faded memories.
2 comments:
Marianne, there is such a stark contrast between the early morning warm welcome of the day and the lonely feelings of your character. It makes the piece memorable. I want to lean in and tell her softly, write them down, each and everyone of them, then they will never fade. I know this because your poem reveals a deep personal fear and I have found resolution through this writing. Thanks for being a part of the journey, look forward to seeing more of you,
Elizabeth
http://soulsmusic.wordpress.com/2013/04/29/wish-to-be-a-perfect-poet-with-a-bit-of-self-talk/
Marianne, I believe you touched on a truth of how it must feel to be totally alone. Such beautiful descriptions and then the ending which is poignant, yet so sad. It has been a pleasure reading with you this month. At times it was incredibly difficult to move my pen, and thought I would simply quit, but I didn't and I am glad for that.
Pamela
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