Wednesday, 27 February 2013
Jigsaw Puzzle in Winter
On melting snow
Before a door
One jigsaw corner
Turned too soft
And faded grey.
It was hard to say
What it was once;
Maybe a piece
of sunny sky. And
There I left it
Where it lay. One
Lost puzzle piece
Outside a door
Of a church bazaar.
And somewhere else
In a rattle box
A picture incomplete.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
I have a few jig-saws like that Gwil. In the winter we are passionate players of Rummikub and doers of jig saws.
ReplyDeleteMy life is a jigsaw. There is always a piece missing. And every time I open the box it's a different one.
ReplyDeleteI like this poem very much - thank you for posting it. That jigsaw metaphor is apt.
ReplyDeleteBest wishes from Anne
Many thanks, Anne. Pleased you liked it.
ReplyDeleteLike it - especially the "rattle box".
ReplyDeleteThanks Dominic, when I was a child I liked the sound the jigsaw pieces made whenever I shook the box. Now I do so metaphorically.
ReplyDelete