In rooms where poppies bloom and fade, and fade away
This child wanders, steps away in time –
Nothing changes, but change itself is master
Of this house of wax. See histories fly
Through doors and windows, broken linkages
Dispersed by thought, but thought is air
In this bone pavilion, manufacturing truths
From memories, a fretted column falls like powder
When she stoops and picks the flowers that she never picked
In this retelling, the flowers change
Are ruby, gold or azure, fresh or rotted
Subject to neglect, or care, depending
On the day, the listener, the lover

What she never said, or said –
And what they chose to hear.



Veronica Aldous 2016 All Rights Reserved


Photograph ‘ Shivering poppies’ by Veronica


About Veronica Aldous

Writer and artist, Veronica is a lecturer is Fine Art and Creative Writing. Her first book of poems, 'Moon Cinema' is now available on Lulu.com. Now there is also 'Mortal' her second book.
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