ramblings and things

924,546 poems read

Special  Mornings

So many special mornings
Seeing the fret clear off the hills
To reveal clear blue skies.
The vines in lines up the slopes
Like regiments at ease.
One year we helped pick them,
Working up and down the rows
Cutting bunches into buckets
Emptied into the  back pack
For Chris to empty them juicy
Green into the trailer ready
To be hauled to the vintner, who
Because I was a visitor
Showed me around, pressing
Samples of wine for me to taste
So I rode back on thr tractor
Just a little squiffy, and the
Next year drinking the wine
From those grapes we'd picked.
So many special days there
With special friends
In that special place.
Our special place.
Now that I am alone
I need to go back just  once more
To say thank you
And goodbye.
This special place both loved
And shared that I cannot face
More than once without her.
I did not know I could experience
And bear such despair.
So many of the past months
Just blurred memories
When I doubted my sanity.
So I keep those mornings
I'm my mind and cry inside
While smiling to the world,
For appearances must be kept,
And grief be suffered silently
To allow others
To get on living  their lives,
And for me to just exist.


Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
Special Mornings