Lee Madgwick leemadgwick.co.uk. dversepoets.com
Comfort
The old limestone house cradled Charlotte,
slanted porch a bosom of activity all afternoon
into early evening, her hands busy
peeling potatoes, snapping peas, shucking corn;
come evenings, mending socks and shirts,
her wooden chair not for leisure nor daydreams.
She was a vintage vision, her button down dress
wrinkle free, tissues sensibly folded
in front pocket, hair smoothed into tight bun,
no-nonsense shoes, polished. Matronly, yes.
But it was a term of endearment.
Past glimpsed as she showed me old well,
chicken coop, outhouse, noble red barn
with peeling paint, rustlings of spirits
echoing off horse and carriage stalls.
Majestic cedar trees towered over lawn,
grand sentinels dripping pinecones like diamonds;
peanut butter wedged between prongs,
enticed birds to flirt and flutter, fill up
as I sketched, each declared a masterpiece.
Charlotte passed on when I was a little girl.
Pony and I missed her encouraging smile,
comforting friendship, lively stories; front door
forever closed, no more peaks
into magical kitchen, porch empty...
yet when I think of home and dearest neighbor,
my memory sketches in the cedars, the wooden chair,
and dear Charlotte waving, forever inviting.
by Margaret Bednar, September 13, 2022
This is a true recollection. I was a very shy child and Charlotte gave me such comfort. I would ride my pony over and stay all afternoon. I am grateful her grandson has fixed up the house and barns and outbuildings to a very high standard - they host beautiful weddings in the barn now and I recently walked through it. It was like a hug ;).
linked with "
dVerse Poets Pub - The Strange Houses of Lee Madgwick". The image isn't spot on to my limestone house in my poem - but it inspired this true memory of a dear woman and her farmhouse. Something must be wrong with me... everyone else seems to have found this image haunting or scary - I find it comforting if not a bit lonely, protective, maybe a bit sad...
