As the winter days ahead begin to darken and draw down
I will slip quietly to work inside this golden room.
My joy is twofold: in catching the memory here and in finding the moment of light.
Early in the morning, this tiny space is shadowed; nothing more.
But a west-facing window draws the evening sun towards it like a song.
In moments, then, caught on the cusp of evening light,
the walls of this tiny space are set aglow –
filling my heart with surprise and joy.
It was a small and plain bedroom;
my mother brought us here, three tiny girls, new-born,
fresh from the hospital three years in a row,
to lie with her in the peaceful early nights
as she drew close the children she never thought she’d have.
I feel her sometimes, with me, here,
as I walk into the golden rush of evening;
feeling the light drawn inexorably into this silent golden room.
I imagine her lying here, bathed in sunlight, holding me close,
watching my chest rise and fall;
my tiny fingers held softly close in hers.
6 thoughts on “Poem no. 10 The Golden Room”
What a beautiful tribute to your mother, the room, and the evening light.
Thank you! This is my favourite room in all the old farmhouse – I’ve made it my study where I write. There is light here, of an evening, that lifts the heart!
Thank you. I have so many memories that gather to me in this old farmhouse; this is my favourite room and its light lifts my heart every time I open the door and step inside.
Anne, I can feel this poem, it is really beautiful
Thank you so much – I am so glad you enjoyed it! This wee room has my heart 🙂