poems

I Question.

I Question

08/03/2015

Passion I question leaning close.
A whisper to time.
Will you free me?
Reach out your hand through eternity and turn a dial so I can fit five more minutes into a day to write?
For me alone because passion doesn’t recognise farness nor sanity.
At home.
On the bed.
Up a ladder.
In the shed.
With a pencil.
With a pen.
In the field with the hens.
What he said to me.
I to her.
About what I wrote?
If thoughts can transfer?
In the good book,
beneath a lamp.
Sinking softly.
Rising damp.
Exhaustive heartache.
Wooden plank.
Nail in coffin.
Strength in bow.
I watch them come.
I feel them go.
Ashamed, afraid.
A family pride.
Remove the twins,
There’s calm inside.
Just for me!
Five more minutes!
I ask once more then halt and grimace.
Perfect daughter.
Hair in eyes.
Twinkle toes.
Beside my wife.
Warm home.
Food on table.
Best of health.
Both more than able.
I kick myself.
My smile it widens.
Filled with love,
For what I provided.
Phone’s lit up.
Four job requests.
I couldn’t ask for more and yet?

Passion I question leaning close.
Filled with things I love the most.

Copyright G.P Williamson 2015.

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