The Sigh

Last month's Theme Poetry session with Sara-Jane Arbury was about Heirlooms and Keepsakes.  For the warm up exercise she gave us a list of objects to choose from and write about.

I'm not going to tell you what I chose.  You'll work it out as you read, I'm sure. But the picture is not a clue!

(c) Karen Wicks

The Sigh 

 I crunched my way through the woodland
Boots crushing the brown, dried leaves,
some still frosted from the night time chill.
No other sounds. All wildlife stilled
as I, the interloper, crushed the woodland floor.
I stopped to sniff the air, the chill
fierce against my cheeks. 

The air scented with Autumn
A pyre for the end of the year.
As I walked further in,
wisps of smoke wafted past me.

A dangerous place for a bonfire!

I hurried forward uncertain of my path
and found to my surprise
as I had walked these woods so many times before
a ruined cottage. No roof.
Just walls and a chimney.
Snatches of smoke appearing
not from the chimney
but the cracked and broken window.
Brambles and nettles
growing round the door frame, in mockery
of the roses-round-the-door
chocolate box image of a country cottage.

No sleeping beauty here; I pushed through
the weeds to find the lingering remains
of a fire in the hearth.
A heap of ashes still exhaling
last breaths of smoke.
Not all was ash. A remnant remained.
A partly burnt notebook.
Cramped indecipherable writing
closely packed
filled the remains of pages.
Crinkled edges where the flames
had charred the outer margins. 

No name.
No reason
why the book was there
and burned.
But as I turned the pages
I heard a sigh.
Was it from the book
or merely the wind in the trees? 

 

Thank you to Karen Wicks for being able to use one of her prints for this post.  You can find her on IG @iacartroom or at Ghostbuildings.

Thanks for joining me today
Bernice

PS
Did you work it out?  It was 'a partly burnt notebook'.