Groundhog Day

She moves like air among the blush-pink roses
wearing their scent like a shroud.
Waiting in the silence of spring, watching
for me to show face – same time, same place.
This is her playground now
her library, her peace.
I appear; and as ritual dictates
she asks me to open the book.
Then tracing the art of calligraphy
she stops on the name
and nothing has changed -
all the greys of yesterday remain.
She continues to relive
her very own Groundhog Day.

◄ Glaswegian

How To Catch A Fish In The Solent ►


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Helen Elliott

Tue 10th Oct 2017 07:25

Thanks Tony ?

Tony Hill

Wed 4th Oct 2017 12:00

I really like this, Helen, the sense of a life being pared down to memories of the past. Also enjoyed your previous post. Tony

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