she stepped quietly from the ancient taxi cab, and faced the door without a handle–pushing in softly; the smell of vanilla floated between the swells of wildflowers in cracked jugs and the soft mewing of a tiny black kitten on a crushed velvet pillow welcomed her home
Delta Dawn, what’s that flower you have on,
could it be a faded rose from days gone by?
from the song Delta Dawn, written by Larry Collins and Alex Harvey, 1971
she is rusty, worn, tired—
and still,
beautiful
fountain pens and ink wells,
memories recalled in dreams,
cameras and typewriters,
tea cups and porcelain creamers,
old friendships revisited,
rusty tractors in corn fields,
clay pots of ancient ferns
and aromatic cigar boxes
te busco en los libros,
en las fotos,
en los rincones de mi alma,
te fuistes sin decir adios—
y hasta el dia de hoy,
te busco
in English:
I look for you in books,
in photographs,
in the corners of my soul,
you left without saying goodbye—
and even today,
I look for you
Almost anything that caught her wandering eye, Mother gathered and brought indoors. In bottles, tea pots, dishes, and jugs, in anything old or beautiful, she’d put roses, beech-boughs, parsley, hellebore, garlic, cornstalks, and rhubarb.
from Cider with Rosie by Laurie Lee, 1959
on iron doors
and gilded mirrors,
around her blue eyes
and her soft, rounded hips,
on mercury glass
and cracked porcelain jugs,
on her dreams
and what she once thought of as
destiny
old bottles
wishes
tea cups
and
words
creamers
marbles
and
thoughts
afternoon winter skies
atlas jars
small aquamarine on a silver chain
a plastic bottlecap in the woods
and the memory of your tender blue eyes
spanishwoods 