Day 1
Overnight, pumpkins festoon supermarket windows. It has begun.
Day 2
Boys with conkers,
brown and polished as their school shoes,
battering rams swung on shoelaces to fight.
Day 3
Translucent colours hover in the sky,
droplets plop,
rainbow above the canal.
Day 4
Late. Again. This stop go network,
roads and railways,
seasons slow and we speed up.
Day 5
Playing that 80’s synth over and
over- you’re over her, yet those songs
trickle through your headphones,
half muffled by the wind.
Day 6
Dreamt of summer, in her smile,
Kept you warm once the sun faded.
Woke in a cold bed, waiting for winter.
Day 7
Riding the tram,
that same soul-warming shade of coffee scent:
back to your favourite cafe.
Day 8
Early morning mist clouds your mind.
Skies seared,
pink smiling tint.
Day 9
Two in the afternoon on a Tuesday: always soporific.
Day 10
Solitary street lamp glow:
last seen in crinkled sweet wrappers
artificial upon the navy palette of night.
Day 11
Nearby, some two chairs behind, someone snores
in the library.
Day 12
You spot a puddle hiding between trees:
midnight pool
in broad daylight.
Day 13
Trees whisper a secret language of
solace in the sound of lost leaves.
Day 14
Seeing twenty years slip from a pensioner‘s face,
at a reciprocated stranger’s smile.
Day 15
Every day
is a let’s leap into leaves kind of day.
Aside from a Monday.
Day 16
You wish you could stop remembering
how quickly she forgot,
still sitting in the same old spot by the lake.
Day 17
Each day feels a little colder,
Fingers a little deeper in gloves.
Breath snatched then cracked by frost.
Day 18
Telephone poles scarred by staples,
Love heart graffiti notches
between kisses, lips and nails raw.
Day 19
Walking through fallen leaves, wondering.
Do you feel more
or less lonely amongst the decay?
Day 20
Dawn a ruddy cheek,
wind scrapes into each crevice.
Time to buy a better winter coat.
Day 21
Communion of starlings, star gazing
On a rooftop.
Day 22
Passing her by, just another familiar
coat, hat, scarf combination in the crowd
too many for her to notice you.
Day 23
Upturned earth, rain-sweetened and
shiny as mincemeat out the jar.
Too soon to think of Christmas.
Day 24
Sixty stacked wine glasses,
boxes on the pavement, for recycling men
to collect his wife’s hoard.
Day 25
Derelict buildings
litter city streets. The retired couple reminisce
forgotten shops- unlike trees,
no new growth.
Day 26
Hours outstretched like limbs within fresh bedsheets.
Outside is still soaking.
Day 27
Glow of the moon,
Coy behind screen of clouds-
illuminates each fingertip.
Day 28
Pink marshmallow atop
of hot chocolate
matches a stranger’s jacket on the table opposite.
Day 29
Old friend’s hugs
are your new home, though temporary.
Day 30
Yearning, like those confused crocuses.
These barren acres of grass trodden footpaths
cannot contain all this
aching.
Day 31
Gradually, between bare trees, beneath blank skies,
the only colour
will be these centenary poppies.
Lauren Winson
Featured image courtesy of Mark via Flickr. Image found here.
Article image 1 courtesy of Randen Pederson, image 2 courtesy of Hailey E. Herrera, image 3 courtesy of Sebastian Horndasch and image 4 courtesy of zaphad1 via Flickr.
Image use licence here.
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