Sometimes, when I look out of the corner of my eye,
I catch a glimpse of…something, though I’m not entirely sure of what it is.
The edges are blurred, merged into some obscure blob
Shapeless, yet defined by the round, curved edges
That bend and twist, catching the light,
And catching me unaware.
Dimensions pulse, their movements seen, as if brushstrokes
Painted across a blank canvas.
The picture begins, it’s outline vague, unattractive;
Water sprinkled on the surface, taking colour and spreading
A blue haze, mingled with yellow.
In the distance, an object, partially recognisable;
It’s form filled with deep, resonant burgundy, caught in shadow.
I squint my eyes and see the image of my parent’s home.
My first home, terraced, tall, red brick in a small off road street.
Walking through the door, I see through to the kitchen,
Long and narrow, seats where I would sit
And watch my mother.
Stepping away from the picture, I am left with a clear image of my childhood.
Forever held in memory of my youth.
Though the picture changed, sometimes beyond recognition
And in ways I now tremble at,
That image brings a smile,
Seen with clarity and love.