This place grew me.
Day hot the lake smiles
back at sky and I
am on the step the shrubs shoulder
in around the shape of memory
like a cut out there's always
the space I fit right into
there at the top of the stairs
the path still points to water
over whir and hum of cars
rolling lips of tide talk
take up at mid-sentence
exactly where we left it
the last time I walked away
this place remembers
holds space
for homecoming
and secret topiary.
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ReplyDeleteDear Gillian, some suggestions - see what it looks like/what you think: make the first line the title (not the front step); change line to "at the top of the stairs" (no there); move 2nd stanza into the 1st, no break; and delete the last 4-line stanza (!). I'll get back in my box now...I promise! Hope you and the family had a glorious day. :)
ReplyDeleteI think 'the front step' is the right title ...
ReplyDeleteand waiting for Edward Scissorhands to show
I love 'the shrubs shoulder in around the shape of memory'.
ReplyDeletewe all know that feeling, the deja vu, the crinkle of time. Great images! I know what Rob is saying, works for me each way.
ReplyDelete