Greenclad.

Magic Carpet

We ride a magic carpet through our days
but oh, time frays it, so the threads re-weave.
The colours fade and yet the browns, the greys,
re-dyed in jonquil and in crimson, still conceive

There runs a thread of you and you and you -
the picture saddens and a stain might bide.
We rode high over Thames. The journey knew,
set in rain-grey, brown river sliding wide.

Here to see my old mum in the good care
of my youngest sister, Charlotte bubbling more
than her Cava, with hibiscus lodged there,
the colours of her threads a vivid lore.

We came down from my mother's empty loom* -
wedding smiles, love inhabits her fled room.

..................

*The house in Norfolk