Dream by Jane Buchan

Dream

It’s too late to fall back asleep when
Eden’s turned to weeds
and ivy’s strangled the trees.

I remember when we courted and I thought you
were like one of the first flutes, roughly hewn, and I became
afraid of forgetting the sound of the song we
made.

Something has evaded us and now I
no longer belong here with you.

I thought this time it was my turn,
so freely stepped out of the blue and into the grey
of stormy cars and stifling London air of May.

A bright leaf suspended on water,
is due to go under.

My past life impossible to tune out
like background noise it is reflected in windows,
raindrops and metallic doors. Spices of home no longer around,

and sounds of the bustling street sellers I now miss waking me
up outside my window that always used to
set up opposite the rug trader.

And the coloured saris that belonged to my mama
I can’t wear when my heart is in a cold place
such as it is when I am around you and so far
from home.

Please welcome our second guest poet, Jane Buchan. Jane is a brilliant young poet from the United Kingdom. Her pace and use of imagery paints a detailed picture for me every time I read her work. I fell in love with her when I read the first stanza of this poem. “When Eden has turned to weeds” brings a tear to my eye every time. This is my favorite of her poems, though I was hard pressed to decide.

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