She picks the colour
of the paint
with care and deliberation,
the background must
act as the perfect foil.
The walls are not quite smooth,
the minor imperfections
are not unwanted, but reflect,
in their matt-coated manner,
that life is generally forked
with deviations from
the straight and narrow.

She strokes them all,
the tailors’ dummies,
in her mind’s eye
placing them here, then there,
in this corner, in that bay window,
eventually selecting a figure
encased in plain ticking
that reminds her of oatmeal.
She can feel the texture,
rough under her fingertips,
the mild abrasiveness
transmits a shiver
deep into her bones.

For now, this is all she needs.
A space, something to lend
a sense of scale and proportion.
Soft daylight, filtered by trees.
High ceilings.
Muted, muffled, cocooned.
Here, she will grow.
Here, she will shape her future.
Here, she will unfurl.

Gestation

*****

For today’s dVerse Meeting the Bar, Claudia asks for us to use metaphor to convey feelings, rather than just being direct and obvious. No sounds in here, no smells, but plenty of visuals for what’s going on with me. This is very much autobiographical. Starting afresh – here we say ‘a clean slate’. Much as I love slate, it’s not a comfortable place to lay your weary body.

I hope you enjoy my offering. I’ll link up once the pub doors have been thrust open at 3PM EST, and see if I can sneak in a sound-recording as well. Please do go and read the other poems offered up for your delight. No two will be the same, I guarantee it – all will bring you something to enjoy, which I also guarantee!