Narrative Distance
with a sense of character
separates readers

Polly Stretton © 2020

The scent of apples
gift-wrapped in old newspaper
pervades the cellar

Polly Stretton © 2020

She plays aluphone,
she often plays barefooted
to feel pulse and beat.

Polly Stretton © 2020

Missing soft kisses,
the gentleness of touches,
loved with family.

Polly Stretton © 2020

Mustard, buttercups,
corn on the cob and sunflower,
yellow has power.

Polly Stretton © 2020

Simple peace and quiet
usually wished for each day,
now it’s here—OK?

Polly Stretton © 2020

For better or worse?
For a blessing or a curse?
Constant or diverse?

Polly Stretton © 2020

She drifts up the stairs,
floats, soundless, down the landing,
frightful, quiet as night.

Polly Stretton © 2020

Lockdown blues over?
Not quite, until we feel safe,
oh, to see loved ones.

Polly Stretton © 2020

Words are meaningless
until imbued with meaning
by those with a care

Polly Stretton © 2020

The night sky sulks dark;
ill-willed faeries live, love, dance
down deep in the dell.

Polly Stretton © 2020

Recalling crimplene,
and shock at ‘Room at the Top’,
party line on phones.

Polly Stretton © 2020

Friday, and it’s time
for a Zoom meeting with my
son and grandson, yes!

Polly Stretton © 2020

I will go home when
I find the place that is home.
I belong somewhere.

I found my own home,
wildlife, no light pollution,
peace and belonging.

Polly Stretton © 2020

Yggdrasill shivers,
the fungus attacks and kills.
They knew about it.

I see him in clouds
no, no precipitation,
except on my face.

Polly Stretton © 2020

What grannie oft’ said
in the past. Her voice echoes,
her sayings will last.

Polly Stretton © 2020