Small poem, written on the train – thinking of autumn coming alongPosted: August 24, 2012
In my mind’s eye, I see you,
as the rail skimming miles slide by.
You are peeling apples in our kitchen,
your mother by your side.
Chunking, slicing, chutney dicing,
Slooshing, whooshing, liquid reducing.
And that, which cannot be denied?
You’re the jam, the jelly roll, adoration preserved.
honeyed, sugared, the core – I am sure,
and yet, by me, undeserved.
Ever, the apple of my eye.