Frost Writes a Cloudless Sky
It’s a cloudless day. Frosted white.
The apple tree’s still threadbare.
As if I’ll remember that.
The plate slipped from my hand,
my eyes filled with time, as if
to stall, then fall, but I was too slow.
It hit the floor.
I wrapped the pieces in broadsheets,
Sunday Times, as if time mends
a break, or heals a broken heart.
My gran’s favourite serving plate,
as if love of that plate is what broke it,
but it’s probably today’s cloudless sky
and frosted white that I’ll remember.
Written for Twiglet #273 “Across the sky” ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting on Twitter
It's Still Life 
9 responses to “Twiglet #273 Across the Sky”
Absolutely breathtaking, Misky. This is just lovely imagery and metaphor here.
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Thank you so much!
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I agree with barb. Just beautiful. And I am sorry about the plate.
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Yes, I felt a bit numb for the rest of the day, as if I’d broken my grandmother. Lost her twice, if you know what I mean. It’s odd how I attach myself to objects.
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I’m guilty of the same. I guess we all are. We have a glass in our cupboard which used to belong to Mr W’s grandfather. It used to have a pair and Mr W used them all the time. But when one broke, the other one was put in the “protected species” category and is never used.
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You’re poetry is breathtaking. 💜
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Thank you, K.
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Lovely piece Misky – & for some reason it reminded me of Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18 – ‘So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.’ Maybe it’s what we do when we write poetry – your gran’s plate lives on…
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Many thanks, Peter, and I appreciate your comment. Good old Shakespeare always drills down to the root of things.
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