Window Seat

I can see the whole World from here
Everywhere I’ve been and the
postcard-only places of dreams.
Giant Atlantic waves crash so that
I can feel the joyful cold on my toes
memories and hopes.
The air thins and now I look at mountains
Giants with hair of snow and
long creeping fingers of ice.
Months and decades pass before
forests shoot from the ground
bringing with them a stray bluebell and families on daytrips.
I relax and the garden swims into view
from my childhood home,
no longer a too-hot summer but
a calm autumn morning.
Then the world whispers back
but a little piece remains – a bunch of gardenias in a vase
in the window.

This piece was originally written for a Writing East Midlands prompt about poetry for patients in hospital. I was writing it remembering the way my grandmother seemed to look beyond the windows and see something further and older while she was in hospital the last time. 


One thought on “Window Seat

  1. chrisnelson61 says:

    Quite sad, really; makes you wonder where all the memories go. Do they float around us forever, like electrical traces, touching the sensitive, igniting false pasts within us? Beautifully written.

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