The day will arrive
when a bustle of activity returns.
Sure and certain footsteps stride,
a certain song yearned for,
unheard for so long.
Bacon thick with fat
will sizzle in the pan,
off the landing lampshade,
and we will all be remade.
Those long gone
shall share the bread,
breaking the egg,
exactly the same as it was.
While the jackdaw of my youth,
who woke me day upon day
with his crazy 5 A.M. chatter,
will parade along the sill,
wondering if I still remember
as I search for signs
among a clatter of dishes
being washed away.
23 Jul 07
Rated 10 (10) by 3 users.
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I wonder at L15 off?
L18 parade (I'm just not big on parade to describe a lone creature)
Thanks for the spot, you could be right about parade,I will try and think of a different word while I wipe these big sentimental tears from my eyes.
Larry tears of a clown Lark
tears of a clown...
Eggs-actly. Love it! You forgot the pig's tongue!!! Jackdawn might slide or sashay along the sill? AWESOME again, Larrydon'tforgetthebuttermilkbiscuitsLark.
I meant "jackdaw." I had "dawn" on my mind while reading and eating this one.
I guess you didn't realise that have always wanted to be a clown and still harbour the illusion that I am funny in my less perceptive moments.
Larry custard pies and flapping shoes Lark
I always seem to know exactly what you mean and I will always love you for it
Larry in the shelter of a star Lark
I will always love you too, Larry Love Is A Many Splendored Thing Lark. Your poetry takes me places I've never been before. Thank you for that, buddy!
You arch flatterer, but I have to say the pleasure is all mine.
Larry house of fun Lark
sad and stuff, but scented and sensitive.
makes me think of a Bessy Pease book i had as a child. (i think i spelled that right).
it was my most favourite book of poems, with illustrations that never fade.
thanks for helping me remember that.
i love your sentimental pieces.
the first two lines are weak.
All the rest is great, although I feel like I had to search for the feeling that the others seem so free to find.
you must surely have realised by now that Larry is a sentimental old fool.
Larry onion head Lark
Some keep them well hid
Larry camaflauge (or however you spell it) Lark
I do know,
that is why you are so loved.
everybody loves to be loved
Larry kiss and tell Lark
Actually I quite like this, I have been having the same lines of thought for a while now...even written on the subject, so I connect to it. It isn't very emotionally involving though.
and any mention of the dishes is rather offputting...
Poignant piece today, when all is said and done. Great staying power.
Love L6/9....though I'm still waiting for that hog heaven.
Great poem. Love the last handful of lines