An old lady sits in a chair. She sits in the chair until she is put to bed.
She stays in that bed until she is put in the chair.
Orange-red lipstick. Flame red hair. Lurex tights. Quick fire humour. Twinkly eyes.An old lady sits in a chair. She eats an orange peeled and segmented by her carer.
She sips whiskey in her tea. She sits. She stares.
She sits in the chair until she is put to bed. She stays in bed until she is put in the chair.
Never still. Darting to and fro. Pottering. Doing. Cleaning. Fussing.An old lady sits in a chair. Her life is sleeping, sitting, eating peeled oranges and drinking whiskey in her tea.
Vibrant. Colourful. Funny fusspot. Kind. Generous. Gone.An old lady sits in a chair. It looks like her, but she's not there.
Simone 26 April 2009
I have never taken much notice of the Lily of the Valley flowering in my garden. It grows in a dark, neglected spot along with the holly and yew trees and newly forming honeysuckle.
Today I was struck by how much it had spread along that cold dark, neglected spot and I declared to myself that I like it even more than snowdrops! I picked a small bunch to take along to my art class so that I could work in perfumed air.
As of today my favourite flower is Lily of the Valley. It is resilient to poor conditions, is delicately scented, has magnificent leaves and tiny waxy fairy cap flower heads and is just beautiful. I dedicate this beautiful flower to all of the people that commented on my poem. I know that poems aren't everyone's cup of tea and this won't turn into a poetry blog but from time to time it is what I do. If you would like to see what else I do then I have just updated my other blog mutant trees. Enjoy the bank holiday weekend!
