Poems & Essays

19 Oct


General/Column One Response

Still curled new,
you unravel the rhythm of my days
like woollen threads
on little striped gloves,
slipping from your fists.

Hot chocolate outdoors,
last of the sweater weather.
Crisp leaves scurrying
beneath new pram wheels,
nudged before me
in the aching space
where my bump once existed.

You are awake,
the dream loses its soft focus,
a gentle jolt
to the unpoetic
practicalities of settling you.

A glove falls to the ground,
in an instant

you are mine.


Gerry Stewart is a mother of 4 currently living in Finland, though in a previous life she was a creative writing tutor and editor in Scotland. Her collection ‘Post-Holiday Blues’ was published by Flambard Press in 2006.

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1 Comment

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  1. Ophelia

    October 19, 2015 at 9:10 pm

    Beautiful poem! Full of lovely Autumn imagery, which is always such a joy to read this time of year. Great job! 🙂


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