For The First Time

 

There’ll come a time

When you’ll be going through my things

And my intimacy will be no more

Exposed to you because it must

I recall how that felt for someone close

Not so many years past

When I rummaged and unearthed and poked around

The pockets of her world, small that it was

And I’m feeling already, too soon

That I should prepare

To put things in order, to make it not a chore

But a pleasure to find for the first time

A world about me you knew nothing of

But more than that

To make it easy for you to find at first hand

What you need to close my life, underline it

To settle loose ends

We share so much and I hope you know me

Yet I hope there can be some discovery

That makes you smile, or surprises

Just a little part of me that you didn’t know

But then makes you glad you’ve found me.

 

 

 

Unfinished

 

Sometimes I feel I could just

Grip my fingers together tight

And make a scoop shape with my hand

To extract a little of

The you that’s inside.

The words you keep to yourself

When I’m longing you to talk

And the sentences I could

So easily finish

But . . .

 

 

Can I Lie In The Purple?

 

Oh mum can I lie in the purple?

Yes, go, be careful

Breathe in the scent

Of Parma violets and granny

And do a lavender snow angel

 

Oh mum can I run through the yellow?

Yes, but mind the stalks

Soak up the sunshine

Of these floral giants

And bathe in their glow

 

Oh mum can I?

Yes, you must, you should

Be different

Create

And tread where others daren’t

Because you are amazing

And you must lie in the purple

Often

 

 

If You Never Had A Mirror

 

If you never had a mirror

You wouldn’t get old

If you never had a mirror

You wouldn’t get wise

If you never had a mirror

You’d see no cracks

If you never had a mirror

You’d see it just your way

If you never had a mirror

You couldn’t reflect

If you never had a mirror

You couldn’t just check

If you never had a mirror

You couldn’t look back

 

If you never had a mirror

If you never saw your image

If your life was single lens

 

If I could I’d show you what

If you never had a mirror

 

 

 

 

“Something happened on a Saturday afternoon on my settee. A burning desire to write. I performed my first ever poem that night at an open mic session of a poetry evening at my local theatre.

I write in spurts, when my emotions rise and make me aware of what’s amazing around me. I write a lot about the people I love, and their support for my poetry encourages me to keep going.

My day job is at a university where I try to support people in their development.”

– Christine Wilkinson