The Letters and Post Cards of my Great Aunt Anne (sometimes spelled: Anna) Jane Gilmour contain a number of romances. She was the only one who never married. Some romances were tragic. Some requited. Some torrid! Some with underlining mystery and confusion between the lines...
Anne Jane Gilmour
Anyway, the following poem was originally inspired by some of them while I was simultaneously reading "Twenty Years A-Growing."
Some of you have seen this poem, some have not. It was well received so I am posting here with its connecting impetus.
The Posts Cards are in the first person so this poem is as well. This is my own imaginings of what was going on and not at all to do with what may or may not have happened.
Some of you have seen this poem, some have not. It was well received so I am posting here with its connecting impetus.
The Posts Cards are in the first person so this poem is as well. This is my own imaginings of what was going on and not at all to do with what may or may not have happened.
After gathering in sheets:
I search for you
in every woman's face
It is well I remember
ever you went along
I look for you
in every woman's eye
~
It is a long while ago,
when you would be
set down at your ease finally
gathering yourself to rest
With another glance,
you spat into the wind
~
I left that day
the scent of linen behind
looking for the twitch of your eye
the henna in your hair
It was true for me then
Putting no lie on it.
obeedúid~
19/mar/09
