The Old Armchair

[capricorn]

I think this was the first poem I posted at WB and I've been working on it again.


The Old Armchair

Leaving the mizzle
I turn Mam’s front door key
into emptiness -

step into her parlour,
gold velour draping the window bay;
keepsakes scatter any gloom

and past guests brush by
for tea and cakes, gossip
stirred with laughter.

Now a silence overwhelms,
like that moment she mistook
a neighbour for Uncle Ray.

I take down floral water colours,
admiring her talent, polish the sixties
stereogram until it gleams,

pack memories into boxes.
China ladies swim with glass fish,
grandparents smile in embossed

albums and still her armchair -
reupholstered in olive brocade,
the suite’s sole survivor

stands by the window, dusty
and frayed, swallowing me
into reveries –

Kisses on the sofa, open mouths
trembling, parents watch
Bonanza, blaring in the adjacent room.

Nerves gnawing, I hold Dad’s hand
the wedding car is late
and it’s starting to rain.

I nursed my boys, inhaling
baby scents, humming along to
‘All I Have to do is Dream’.

Cardigan inside out, Mam waits
for the doctor, her bible upside down
unsweetened tea half drunk and cold.

I plump up crochet cushions,
snuggle into time-worn arms,
whisper goodbye as she fades.

Outside the clouds open.
Releasing a deluge, I hear -
It’s only a chair love.

[BobBradshaw]

Just lovely, filled with tender moments but without being maudlin. Wonderfully crafted. Still, this stanza was the best, strikingly memorable:

Now a silence overwhelms,
like that moment she mistook
a neighbour for Uncle Ray.

A nom for sure.

[capricorn]

Thanks Bob

[FranktheFrank]

Agree with Bob Bradshaw. One of your best, Eira.
Should do well in the IBPC this month.

[capricorn]

Thanks Frank