Grey on the Ground

Your eyes are closed
as mine are open.
Your smooth unblemished lids
hold secrets no one can know.
When I blink you see me
standing behind you in
that upstairs bedroom as
we watch the sheep below
clustered for shearing.
They are gone now and
the big shed fades,
grey on the ground.
Your lids are still smooth
and I am still behind you.


shed old

(top:; lower:

About Jim Stewart

Writer at Butt in Chair
This entry was posted in Aging, family, Friendship, Marriage, Oregon, Poem and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Grey on the Ground

  1. This reminded me of The Thornbirds. 🙂

  2. Reblogged this on writing in airplanes and commented:
    A nice image …

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