Of flotsam and foundrels

 

A jar of jam from Russian snow

A tattered book that I can’t read

A photographic trail of love

Some shower gel and still the list

Returns to keep me company

 

A bible kept - from one good friend

Its cover stitched by her loved aunt

Who sank inside The Amazon

A painting of her long-gone dog

And she returns right happily

 

A rucksack full of shoes and ‘stuff’

From one who stayed here years ago

A long wrapped hand of cotton grass

Collected from the Russian Steppe

Lift thought from its mundanity

 

A ribbon caught - and marmalade

The Orme’s delight of breaking sun

A room remade – and sadder tears

The pink – the cloth – the picture trail

Return to claim in empathy

 

And so the years and their reward

Bring back in gift and foundrel thought

What life and flotsam reaches shore

Imparting all to this small page

And thence to hours’ serenity

 

Yet ‘riches’ bought or coveted

Mean less than one of these at last

And still they rise in sadness gay

Where all has fallen into dust

They will in perpetuity

Remain

19Sept2011