Receiving DandelionsA Poem by Adam, the Grub Street LodgerA sequel to 'Picking Dandelions', the brother's response.Auntie moaned again about the washing in the sink, and I want to smash the dishes on the floor. I nearly cried in maths class, and lunch time went too fast, and now there’s a knock upon my door. My sister, face like mine, teetering on the edge of crying but smaller, wider, cuter, rounder, paler. She smiles a watery smile that I see through from half a mile. And offers dying flowers, like they’ll save Her.
She hasn’t seen you see, The sorrow and the fear that I have lived with this long-drawn out year. She’s been kept safe, secure. So her heart will stay pure. She’s been here, but she’s not been Here. To hold, wilting in her fist Some dandelions, makes me wish I could live as safe as her. Where a pale limp weed, is exactly what Mum needs To overcome the dreaded cancer. I wish that magic still worked, and maybe I’m a jerk, for spurning my little sister’s gift There is something in her thought, and maybe something of the sort, will give Mum a little lift They may be weeds to me, but to my sister they can be Magic, hope and good wishes. I’ll apologise right now, hug, make up somehow. And then I’ll go and clean up all the dishes. © 2012 Adam, the Grub Street LodgerReviews
|
Stats
358 Views
3 Reviews Added on June 28, 2012 Last Updated on July 1, 2012 Tags: sentimental, brother, dandelions AuthorAdam, the Grub Street LodgerLondon, United KingdomAboutMy novel, 'Death of a Dreamonger' is on sale now. Order your copy at www.britainsnextbestseller.co.uk A video to explain who's who and what's what (2 mins). more..Writing
|