Sonnet 7

3/3/11

The freshly laundered smell that’s in my shirt

Reminds me of the home I’ve left to dreams;

The childhood which tastes of love and dirt,

And summer sunshine, grimy girlish gleam.

I’ve left it there, a hallowed sacred place,

Within the part of me that no-one sees.

And all the years and aches cannot erase

The happiness; my youth, so light with ease.

I want to dance and splash in all this rain.

Instead I keep on walking—late for work

You know, and there’s no stopping. What a shame.

These early showers heal the deepest hurt.

But years, it seems, add chains to what we might

Have done with freedom’s step, our love of life.