Some evenings come in melancholy,
a Sunday feel
of years now gone.
Of youth.
Of hope.
Of misty smoke in autumn air,
light fading into night.
Coming home to table set,
celery in a crystal glass;
and voices speak
which now are still.
The honeyed perfume from the garden,
old-fashioned flowers spill over
the edge of paths.
And ways no longer stretch ahead;
the time so short
and so much left un-done.
A contest entry
- flashback 2 by sideways hourglass.
470 points, ended November 5, 15 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
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Such a beautiful piece that speaks to my heart. Oh, the memories that sustain life and keep one wishing and hoping. Memories of days gone by linger silently in your words. I love the whole flow of this most wonderful piece. It reads as though you are sitting in a rocker contemplating your past with such findness, yet sadness aso creeps in. Yes, the days are shorter and the years move faster and it seems there is no time left to do what we wish. But I am sure that what you have done has made a huge difference in many lives. Just perfect.
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Your opening lines are magical, 'a Sunday feel' It's true Sundays did feel different and yes I remember the celery (in a glass jug in my case ) I don't remember having anything else with it just sticks of long white celery and bread and butter.
your closing lines also very true, ways no longer stretch ahead and time does seem short
Years seem to pass faster and the further I get from my childhood the more my memories want to take me back because when I am dead no one else will ever remember them or the little girl that was me....
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