This poem sent in by Esme, is about nostalgia, and quiet moments of reflection. I’m in the thick of my youth at the moment but still can’t help wishing for simpler times, perhaps ironic considering my lack of life experience! Whilst I acknowledge the importance of making the most of your time as it comes, I sometimes find a sense of peace in stillness and reflection. :))

My dog Following crisp slatted sunlight
around our paused sitting room,
dust suspended in specky soup.

Mirror on mirror,
gilded swirled slobbery edges
with abstract brown inside for my hair.
pinky white for face.

and this feeling again —

Once in grandpa’s study, a summer’s day,
with white sofa covering instead of winter peacock.
Lying on my back on the carpet, clinking marbles,
steadied by aching noon light.
counting strange objects from strange places,
unpronounceable to a sticky phonetic toddler tongue.

Autumn leaves with hole punch corners
Morning frost forgotten on the lawn,
dragon breaths swirling to stops over
the city I can barely stretch my fingertips over.

Now, edged sixteen,
wishing to be suspended myself,
wishing for reincarnation as dust that dances between pauses.

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