WEDNESDAY MORNING POETRY

By Debbie Bulloch


IN THE HOUSE

In the house where we spent our nights,
Hung a photograph.
It is a photograph of you and me,
Dancing to the music from an unseen band.
When we were young lovers.

In the house where we spent our nights,
There was a bed.
Dark wood and white covers,
And on that bed we wrestled as one.
When we were young lovers.

In the house where we spent our nights,
There was a small table in the kitchen.
A blue table and two yellow chairs,
Where we planned our future.
When we were young lovers.

In the house where we spent our nights,
The walls were alive with the echo of our sounds.
Sounds of laughter,
Sounds of words tenderly spoken.
When we were young lovers.

In the house where we spent our nights,
The walls are bare,
The bedroom is empty,
The kitchen is deserted,
The echoes are silenced.

No one lives,
In the house where we spent our nights.
When we were young lovers.

03.11.2009

Copyright © DB 2009. All rights fully reserved.

FOR AMY, WHEREVER YOU GO

In the still of the night,
When all is quiet,
And even the angels take time to rest.
I rise out of my warm bed
And on kitten’s soft paws
I tip toe down the long hallway.

The night’s air is chilly.
Everyone sleeps.
The three cats,
The colored fish in the aquarium,
Even our big dog,
All are asleep.

Quietly, not wishing to disturb your dreamy slumber,
I slowly open the door to your room.
On a soft bed,
Surrounded by the stuffed trophies
From countless trips to Disneyland
You sleep.

I watch in awe,
As your body steadily rises and falls,
In rhythm with your deep breathing.
Nothing disturbs you,
As you journey, along with your dreams,
Unto uncharted lands.

I close my eyes
And I too journey.
Back to the days when you slumbered,
Undisturbed,
In my expanding womb.

Back in those days,
I could feel,
Your brave heart
Beating deep inside me.

For nine months
You lived safe inside me.
Where heat could not burn you,
Where cold could not make you shiver,
Where the bright Sun could not hurt your blue eyes.
Safe inside me, no one could harm you.

For the past seventeen years,
I’ve held your hand when you were scared,
I’ve kissed you when you were hurt,
I’ve embraced you in my arms when you were lonely.
For the past seventeen years,
I’ve been the mother bear,
Keeping the outside world at bay.

Now the time has come,
When you must fly on your own,
The day when I must let go is at hand.
I look at the girl sleeping on the bed
And I can already see the woman she will one day become.

Slowly, on kitten’s soft paws,
I finally dare enter the room.
Kneeling besides your bed
I watch you dream.

Before I go
Before I must finally let go
I kiss the girl
Who grew in my womb.

03.11.2009

Copyright © DB 2009. All rights fully reserved.