Thursday 12 March 2009

Counterpoint




Counterpoint

The roundness of a pebble warmed by the sun
fitting comfortably in your hand.
The coldness of a snowball moulded and firmed
by bright red fingers in soggy gloves.
The comfort to toes of a sheepskin rug,
warm on a winter’s night.
The pain to your feet of a shingle beach
as you stumble up from the sea.
The sting of salt water on a grazed knee
sore and red from a fall.
The bliss of a hot bath, scented and steamy
after a long hard physical day.
The softness of skin only a few weeks old
crowned by a toothless smile.
The callouses and scars of leathery hands
that have worked hard for 80-odd years.
The quietness of dawn when day holds its breath
the silence increased by a blackbird’s song.
The noise and intrusion of the strimmers’ roar
as neighbouring men get their gardens in trim.
The fear and confusion brought on by dreams
weird, disorientating and real.
The bliss of sleep to a tired body, and a mind
at peace with the world.


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5 comments:

Sue said...

That's a good poem. It deserves a new bag :-)

Gilly said...

:-)

much2ponder said...

This was very good Gilly. Thanks for sharing.

Leonard said...

You write like another friend of mine...

thanks for sharing.
Best

sojourner said...

Hi! Came here by Leonard's invitation - i liked these words & you are an observer of things in life - i like this line: "The bliss of sleep to a tired body, and a mind
at peace with the world."
Grace & Peace to you!