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 |  Broken Circle is my childhood observation of my grandmother. |
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BROKEN CIRCLE In your pink bathrobe, with white lace trim, you sit Impeccably dressed, hair done, painted nails Stamping medical folders Reaching for a cigarette, wrinkled hand shaking Smoke curls, patterns dancing in the air Face obscured Refilling the inkwell, dipping the fountain pen Quick to laugh but not distracted Kettle whistles on the old stove Poppy seed cake, undercooked Long walks on the neighbouring hills Rhythmic, fast paced, on the trails Mischievous, always up for some fun Conspirator and partner in crime Always the tourist Telling stories, reminiscing but not too far back Select details only The past stays in the past Don’t ask questions about the old life Too many countries, too many languages, too many places to call home Roots ripped from the ground Unsettled, uneasy, undone Never fully transplanted, existing only on the surface Barred from returning A lifetime passes before the doors open Welcoming, yet this is a different world Your mind conclusive Directed and focused Determined to let your stories to die with you |
| Entry # | 1 | Broken Circle | 1.27k |
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