I'm in your old room
You are gone.
The light looks different
Actually, the light looks wrong.
As I stand and look at where
Your bed met the wall
There's very little I can feel
Of what I used to feel when i was standing here.
My hand is warm, the iron foot
Cooled of certain words you wrote,
The mountains, the daffodils
Suddenly relieved of a specific gravitas that was once bestowed upon them.
There was never much to look at;
Some things held up with bluetac
A bedside table book
A ceiling drying rack.
But it was still too much
The nerves glow in my palms
Everything was something,
Everything was actually nothing, but then again maybe something particularly special that was really quite poignant when you actually think about it.
6 th draft
ReplyDeleteThere was never much to look at,
Some things held up with bluetac,
A bedside table book,
A ceiling drying rack.
I'm in your old room-
You are gone.
The light looks different,
Actually the light looks wrong.
From where I stand I can see
Where your bed met the wall,
There's very little I can feel
Of whatever I was feeling before now.
My hand is warm, the iron foot,
Cooled of certain words you wrote,
The mountains, the daffodils,
Are suddenly relieved of a specific gravitas that you once bestowed upon them.
But it was still too much,
The nerves glew in my palms;
Everything was something,
Everything was actually nothing, but then again was possibly something quite special that really was maybe quite poignant when you stop and think about it.
7 th draft
ReplyDeleteI'm in your old room
- You are gone.
The light looks different
Actually, the light looks wrong.
As I stand, I can see where
Your bed met the wall,
There's very little I can feel
Of what I used to, standing here.
My hand is warm on the iron foot;
Cooled of all the words you wrote,
Mountains, daffodils
Suddenly relieved of how you spoke about them.
There was never much to look at;
Some things held up with bluetac
A bedside table book
A ceiling drying rack.
But it was still too much
The nerves glew in my palms
Everything was nothing, yet
It all sang like a psalm.