Life in Poetry
Jun. 21, 2021
Old friend you welcome me into your roompresent me with a crocheted shawl, consolationafter my long stay in a hospital ward.You call this gift Haboo, your name for the childhood comforter you held close when you felt fearful or alone.I hold it in my arms, colours like flowers form lines: baby pink, scarlet, sparkling blue, light yellow centre, trace these tracksfind love in the weaving, happiness in receiving, reassurance, cast aside carewhen I wrap it around my shoulders.I bury my face in the shawlsavour the feel of soft wool.
25.11 | 22:15
Grief is experience through the mundane. Simple but powerful. The accompanying image really compliments the poem.
07.11 | 11:14
A great observation! Social media can be a scary place... I also need to reduce my time there
06.11 | 16:24
A great one, Peter, in the context you describe. I don't read social media myself, I doubt my equilibrium could stand it. 'The balance of his mind disturbed' yes, I think it would be.
06.11 | 15:59
Yes, gossip is a weapon of mass destruction.
In my business as well as personal life I have zero tolerance.
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