Today I've been clearing out the attic and came across this poem I wrote sometime in the nineties.
It was winter and we were staying in our cottage twixt Skipton and Keighley - a lovely little village with an old church, a pub , the canal and the river Aire.
Farnhill
When the moon shines silver on the river,
When the hills and trees are decked with snow,
When ice crystals crunch beneath our footsteps,
And our nostrils prickle, do we know,
How lucky we are?
When the gales gust wild upon the moor-side,
The rain is relentless, and the Aire,
Bursts its banks and floods the fields and meadows,
Drenching sheep and cattle, do we care,
How lucky we are?
When his chair is empty at the table,
And nobody reaches for your hand,
And the only voice is from the wireless,
Maybe then we'll really understand,
How lucky we were.
Let us seize the day, count our blessings,
Forget dewlaps, aches and stiffening knees,
Make each day a day to remember,
Cherish, love and aim to please.
21 comments:
A lovely poem, Pat. You're such a good writer.
I know how lucky you were, I know how lucky I was. That is a beautiful poem.
That is very beautiful and sad, but also a reminder to all of us to make the most of each day. I need this right now.
We don't notice because those beautiful scenes you've painted are free, taken for granted.
I was saying something similar to my mother this morning...that no amount of lovely things can replace family, and when you're alone [like in Guyana], you realise.
I wish this can be in your book.
So poignant.
I was skyping my son this evening, and part of the conversation was about prioritising relationships because by the time we realise we should it's often too late - and it's better that he learns this earlier on his life. Feels like your poem ties in with it.
((hugs)) x
Pat, what a lovely poem and sad poem at the same time.
Yes lets us remember how very lucky we are.
You are such a wonderful writer and I have so enjoyed reading you blog over the years.
cheers, parsnip
Oh!
Xxx
I try really hard to savour every moment, but I can still be a grumpy old mare sometimes.
Lovely poem, Pat. Maybe if I hang around here long enough a new chapter will appear :-) No pressure.
Sx
Judy: I can't tell you how much your encouraging comments mean to me. Thank you.
Granny Annie: we wear the same shoes.xox
Joey: then I'm glad I followed the impulse to post it.
Neena: I'm thankful that as far back as the nineties I was aware of how blessed I was. It helps me now because I feel I have no right to feel sorry for myself.
Kim: one tries to pass on these small nuggets of wisdom and hope - occasionally they listen.
Parsnip: if it weren't for the encouragement I get from you and others I would have given up by now.
Maurcheen: I think the 'Oh' means this resonated with you. I hope so.
Scarlet: I am the grumpiest old mare believe me. I'll try to get on with the next chapter soon.
Lovely work, well done!
Sausage: how nice. Don't be a stranger.
Indeed, you don't know what you've got till it's gone.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=94bdMSCdw20
AndrewM: thanks honey. Another great link.
Thank you, Pat! xoxoxoxo
Savannah: :-) xoxox
That's just beautiful
HELEN: :-)
So poignant, right to the only voice from the wireless and then the robustness of seizing the day.
Rashbre: thank you. I'm so happy we did 'seize the day.'
Yes, those words have the right of it. I certainly know....
Mage: the trick is to know this before it's too late.
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