A Poem a Day (604): Lines

 
Lines
 
A circle, two dots, one curve,
scrap of fine hair and a mid-line,
two sticky-out ears. It grins back.
 
For a moment it is whole,
strangely familiar. For a few seconds.
And then it slides. Like tears.
 
Warmth makes the whole subside.
It runs, drips into itself. Now faceless,
the window stares back at you.

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, September 28, 2023

A Poem a Day (603): A cup of tea in M&S

 I stopped for a cup of tea (and a pastry) on the way home today... 

A cup of tea in M&S

I sit at the table, pour a cup of tea
from this plump penguin of a milk jug,

the lip bird-shaped. It pours. It does its thing.
I watch the rain trail its fingers, spiralling,

patterns recreating lines, twisting, erasing,
and we can dream. I see a young man.

He sits with his family in a chair,
his lifeline, his mobility, his limbs.

But he is out, he is here, and he is not alone.
He has company and warmth. He is cared for.

The rain glints in the broken sunshine.
Maybe he will smile and light up the room. 

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, September 17, 2023

A Poem a Day (602): The inn

  
The inn
 
It breathes, bereft of slumber,
turns its glass eyes to the moon,
closes both doors, seals itself off.
 
Dust mites nibble the open pages
of the only book ever to be read.
So many tales left untold.
 
Fiery last embers crumble to ashes
and a cold draft lances through,
trips up the stairs two at a time.
 
Outside, a long-lost dog howls,
thankful for the scraps on the step,
listens to winter’s chill settle in.
 
Brick and mortar glues it all,
on top a tiled hat sits askew,
offers a cosy nest for the crows.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, September 1, 2023