FADED DUST CLINGS

This poem is another example of writing about what you see. A number of years ago we hired a flat in Catalunya and were greeted with a bouquet of faded plastic roses on the table. I put them into a wardrobe and forgot about them. As I sat taking in the view the germ of this poem formed in my head.

pink plastic roses

arranged at the factory

cast in a cheap crystal vase

now they have sun damage

their too bright artificial colours are faded

dust clings to the creases

have I ever seen anything so sad?

I am not sure

they would give a divorce a photo-finish

I speak from experience

I am in a rented room

for reasons I will not go into

I open the wardrobe

place the bouquet on the floor

slide the door shut

get on with my life as best I can

I like fact that there are unanswered questions in the poem; why is the person in the rented room? Has he been married/divorced? Is this why he can talk about sadness with such authority? I leave you to fill in the blanks.

Here's Art Pepper and The Trip.

Until next time.