Killing me softly with her song…memories of mum.

Sunshine over Shap

Last embers of summer smoulder

Leaves linger lazily

Brittle against the breeze.

 

Once upon an autumn sunrise

We hung our lives out on the washing line

Pegged our pain and memories side by side

Peeled back the layers revealed the years of anguish

Aired the past and put it out to dry.

 

The gentle winds of autumn swept away the tears we shed

We both knew who we were and we collected all our worth

And meaning in one basket of crumpled washing.

We folded and sorted it and stuffed it back in the drawers

So no-one else could see.

 

Brittle against the breeze

Leaves linger lazily.

Last embers of summer smoulder

Sunshine over Shap.

 

©Alison Jean Hankinson

This is my contribution to Open Link Night at d’Verse.

 

 

Author: alisonhankinson

I am a school teacher and a mum and a red cosmic skywalker, and sometimes a netball coach...but beneath it all I am a writer...

22 thoughts on “Killing me softly with her song…memories of mum.”

  1. I love the tenderness in the lines:
    ‘Once upon an autumn sunrise
    We hung our lives out on the washing line
    Pegged our pain and memories side by side’
    and
    ‘…we collected all our worth
    And meaning in one basket of crumpled washing.
    We folded and sorted it and stuffed it back in the drawers
    So no-one else could see’.
    I used to do the same with my nan and my mum. Lovely memories, Alison.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Who would think that a poem could be written with the metaphor of laundry that illustrates a relationship so wonderfully. No, it doesn’t seem that all was easy and perfect between the two of you but you managed in your own way. I love your poem…bittersweet.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. FOlded Sheets then of
    Love A Mother’s smell
    left scent
    iN
    Unconditional way…
    Smiles my friend.. i lost
    my smell from a virus
    of a cold sometime ago..
    And my Mother about a
    Month before that gone by..
    And it came back a little after
    months and nothing really smells
    the same.. what is left as after any
    loss is a potential for memories
    of what once is real
    as emotions senses
    then..
    come now
    your poem
    brought back
    a memory of that
    Scent Real of Love my
    Friend.. no one can put
    a Price on a ‘poem’ like this..
    as it’s true when we write Poetry
    we can truly bring back heart spirit
    and
    Soul
    More
    aLiVe NoW
    in others as
    Distant as the
    ForcE oF LoVE NoW..
    beYonD iNfiNiTY thiS reaLiTY NoW..:)

    Liked by 1 person

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