Sunshine, Soap and Symphonies

no rain in nostalgia,
snow kissed days sometimes,
filled with mittens and laughter
flame blackened sootiness
of chestnuts in hands,
crackled skin lined as
a New York street map
 
but most days were sunshine
 
Soap filled nostrils flinch
skin scrubbed raw throbs
before the glow of a kitchen fire
and the heady scent of cold tar
fills every nook and crevice
of the days you dreaded
and the nights you chose sleep
 
but most days were sunshine
 
When radio waves crashed
over bedroom shores,
ears gasped
at sounds never heard
and Floyd played a symphony of their own,
 
while days were filled with sunshine
 
 
 
 

Used by permission of the author.

Jan Sargeant

Jan Sargeant’s poetry has been published in many journals for over 40 years although she is better known for books ...more