Yellow Roses
There are yellow roses on the window silland a cow called Beryl, I inherited her,
I've grown fond, I place her between
my Italian vase, I bought in Rome,
its not valuable, I just loved the colours
and some weird species of plant
that is resilient and looks very green.
I had lunch with Samuel today, he has a plan.
We met back in the 80's in Israel, sometime
in the early 90's he moved lock stock and ex wife
and despite our peripatetic lives, we met up
recently, along with a double bass player called James
who comes from New Zealand but says he's Irish.
Samuel plays the violin, beautifully, achingly so,
he wants us to form a trio and play in the jazz
bar, The Blue Note, I'm not too sure,
we had a one off just before Christmas
and it went down well, I swayed in time,
the notes came so painfully I found myself crying
but I live out of town and it is a long way home.
I open up my case, the silver flashes in the
chandelier light, my gothic phase, the boys
have hung streamers, they look like webs,
somewhere in the spider tendrils,
I might buy a yellow rose and wear it in my hair
and our little trio will warm the punters
as lovers can't fail to fall for Samuel
and James with his shaggy hair and double bass.
Perhaps I will take Beryl, she deserves a treat.
Poetry by Elle
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Written on 2014-01-02 at 20:18
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