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The Warp

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Home


And I am waiting

for the time when this wild and crazy world

will send me back home ...


home where my snorting horse Blackie

tosses his head

impetuously as he munches

the long rank grass

home where the golden sunset

gilds the plates

home where the overblown roses drench

in the evening dew

home where the saucy sparrows

speak my name

home where my Mother trims flowers

in huge china bowls

home where village ladies skilfully

in the village hall perform Chinese plays

home where the voice of Harry the farmer

calls the cattle in at evening

mixes with the cries of curlews

home where in ordered bookshelves stand

the exotic books of my father’s press

tooled coloured leather covers hiding

nymphs, satyrs, all the exuberant flotsam of

his inventiveness

home where the little cherubs from the

antique plaster ceilings gaze out

roistering amid a welter

of cornucopias, water melons, roses

home where ancient apple trees stand

gnarled in the soaked, dewy, lovely evening

and I am waiting

I am waiting

for the time when this wild and crazy

world will send me back home.


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Jeremy Sandford, RIP.
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However the index and sorting and coding are copyright of me,
George @ dicegeorge.com(c)2006


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