Poem of the Month: September 2007

Petals


James Nash, with words from his poem 'Petals' written on his chest
Remember the music we used to play?
The instruments still hang on the wall,
a trellis of brass roses
or an exotic vine with bugle flowers.
Like plumbing but not joined up,
and silent now.
And the lid of the piano is down.

The tunes still prickle in my blood,
and though blooming less
each successive year,
have kept a scent of you.
And the truth is
that I have grown older and loved others,
but I shall always carry some notes of your music
in my pockets, like petals,
wherever I go.




© James Nash
From Deadly Sensitive, Grassroots Press, 1999

Photo by Casey Orr