You

You are a stone coloured slumping giant,

quiet at the side of the room,

an enormous hulk of hillside,

soft mounds of scattered earth,

the comfort of the deepest slumber,

solid, loyal,

forgiving,

a soft place to fall.

So why do I always choose the leather armchair? 

© Laura Howard 2012

a minor chord

Each day the light comes a little earlier,

and slowly

spring begins to bleed through

the grey peripheries of winter.

But as green buds and shoots

bravely push their way

out of cold, dark branches,

and cherry blossoms begin to form 

pink fists of petals,

fat and full,

somewhere else

there is the pull

of a minor chord.

Winter always turns to spring,

no matter the force or depth of want,

we cannot amend or alter anything

that has gone before.

© Laura Howard 2012

Depth of Field

The lessening light

struggles to filter through

a lens of grief,

and days are measured

in time lapsed frames

of solitude and shadows.

Somewhere in between one hour

and the next,

lost in the depth of field,

I wait...

as the grainy black and white

slideshow flickers around me

and plays and plays...

©Laura Howard 2012