I wake up

For days and weeks and months I have made myself forget.
I’ve kept busy, I write, I think, I sleep, I laugh, I play and yet,
An insignificant, a tiny thing, opens the door of my mind
And I find myself remembering all that I have put behind.

I wake up; it’s beautiful, so beautiful, the smell, the touch, the feel,
The fresh memory laden wind pours across my window sill.
I lie there, looking but not seeing at the ceiling above my bed,
While I smell the wind and let the thoughts stream through my head.

The wind slaps my face as I walk to the fire with my friend,
We laugh and hold our hands to the flames while the gum tree branches bend.
The bonfire cooks us while the wind makes us freeze,
This memory brought back to my mind by a breeze.

The radio reminds me that I should get up and start my day,
So I start my routine: I think, I write, I play.
Then I open up the door and go to fetch the mail,
And the wind comes back with my memories, as piercing as a nail.

The Snow Queen gum tree, a creamy white, has a rope hanging from her bough,
Another friend of mine is high up and I am sitting on the rope swing now.
We talk of orcs and hobbits and elves and watch our sisters run,
Their hair windswept while their legs are full pelt, laughing and having fun.

I sigh and reach the letter box and find a letter for me,
Amongst the statements and bill and things saying ‘Buy 1 get 1 free!’
I tear inside and go into my room to open it in quiet and peace.
It’s from my friend and my memories return; they never cease.

We are lying in bed and tickling each other noisily, my friend and I,
Until her mum comes in and tells us to be quiet, then we look each other in the eye,
We almost burst from laughing but we manage to hide the noise,
And we talk in whispers about our lives, times of sadness and of joy.

For days and weeks and months I have made myself forget.
I’ve kept busy, I write, I think, I sleep, I laugh, I play and yet,
A small thing such as the wind that swept over my face that day
Releases all the emotions and love for Cooma that I have kept at bay.

I wake up

jesssicarose

Joined October 2009

  • Artist
    Notes

Artist's Description

Moving is such sweet sorrow. The memories are so beautiful. This poem could do with a reword some day. When I have time.

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