Stripping down old pink walls
(we're painting it blue for maturing tastes)
we have a new light, a small purple chandelier sort of thing
with pink and white glass jewels to hang on it
-in the mornings it reflected light from the east window
in shattering rainbow patterns on the ceiling-
and there is a newly acquired light blue bedside table,
old with two little draws and a cabinet with metal netting
(you pick these things up at vide-greniers in muddy fields on frosty Saturday mornings)
stripping down the old pink walls
was a pretty sight
when behind old pink, there was older lavender wallpaper
peeling and delicate, still quite pretty
and I wonder still if it was a little girl's room, much like mine
with toys and books and precious euphoric things
or a mother's boudoir smelling as lavender wallpaper rooms must of-
and perhaps with a vanity desk, full of perfumes and powders
and scents of whimsical women in the afternoon glaze, dreamily
(wasted fancies for a small country house bedroom)
(27th January 2014)
YOU ARE READING
Fly Away Home
PoetryHome, where my heart lies. Home, where does the heart lie? pour l'enfance. (2013 - 2014)