How I Feel About you: Angela


Painting of woman by Trudi Murray
Since I stopped you
coming round,
effectively banned you
from walking up the path,
ghostly vapour trailing
a cobweb on the grass
I don’t feel you
at all.
I can’t hear you clattering the cake tins
or whirring softly from room to room
or peglegging along the landing
and for that I’m glad.
Those days are over.
It was nice having you
for a while,
hanging around,
telling me what to do
and how,
advice from the other side
a crystal ball of crazy
so readily available
but don’t you think
it’s time
let me grow up?
I’ve put everything about you
in a box
and taped it up.
Everything with your writing on,
that A3 jiffy bag
we sent back and forth from university
a million times
with sweets in.
I loved choosing for you.
It’s in the box,
all of it.
Well, not everything.
Your china head
and your best scarf,
your 60s skirt
and your sewing kit
I still use regularly.
Your hands in my hands
and your laugh in my laugh
and your eyes in my eyes
and your playfulness
so deeply rooted inside me
and bubbling out
I cannot get rid of.
Trudi Murray June 29th 2016

4 Comments on “How I Feel About you: Angela

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