Yellow roses on your shelf,
half-open, dreaming in their vase.
A book, laid as if half read,
and pictures on the wall.
Little things that make me smile.
Fire, warming silence, holding space.
Glass and jug for someone else,
and pebbles on the floor.
Familiar face, familiar place;
your open mind, opening space;
A table bare to fill with tears,
and banishment of fear.
Frames and moments you’ve passed through,
Stacked and wrapped against the wall;
suggesting of a life outside,
and time will come to go.
© Matthew Rhodes 2011
Sensitive familiarity. Very at-home feeling to this poem.
Thank you – it’s a friend’s therapy room, where it’s good just to go and talk sometimes.