POETRY SUPERSTORE
By
Peter Dean
Poems copyright Peter Bernard Dean 2013
Homecoming
Tell me when you can come on home
and I will warm the house,
put wood in the grate, build up the fire
and banish ev’ry mouse.
It will be the greatest, joyous day
to see you and our son
here in Fenland, back again
you know you are the one.
So celebrate with ale and wine
and cheese and grapes and bread
our love has stood the test of time,
my heart still rules my head.
Come down from Leeds
your mother’s fine, she’ll live another day
I missed you dearest, and our son,
two weeks have gone astray.
I long to hear your voice again
I missed the boy’s young smile
wanting, yearning, all through the day
I count your every mile.
The cat has gotten
used to me, and my slack, slack ways,
he sleeps and eats and scratches chairs,
in his mournful daze.
Now it’s three and you arrive
I hear the car pull up,
the boy runs quickly, you get out,
in haste I fill my cup.
We kiss and hug
and laugh and sing as if we are new-born,
my legs go weak, my eyes feel tears,
we’re happy through ‘till dawn.
Now we are three
a family here, overcoming time apart,
love boldens me, our fire ignites,
two joyous, beating hearts.
January Morning
Winter.
The lady’s cold, rheumatic fingers
scratch away some ice
from her windows.
Some children in the street throwing snowballs.
Clunk! Snow hits the wall, and sticks,
freezing into chunks of ice.
“Clear off!” the lady screams,
“Get away from here!”
She lifts her stick at the boys.
Snowballs lobbed in the air –
one hits the window.
Plop! The snow is soft this time,
ice flakes drag down the pane.
“Clear off!” the lady screams,
