Wild Woodbine, a Poem by – Joan McBreen
Wild woodbine was beyond my reach
in the thick hedges round Lough Gill.
The heavy scent filled the house for days
when my father brought it in
and it stayed fresh far longer
Because I loved the delicate
pink and white wild rose
he picked it too, cursing the thorns, muttering
“it dies too soon,
you’d be better leaving it alone”.
Yet once, when my mother
swept its petals from the floor
I saw him rescue one
and place it carefully
in the small wallet
where he kept her photograph.
Love the poem. Love the pics. Love it all.
September 9, 2016 at 1:42 am
Thanks Elen 🙂 🙂 very pleased you loved this post 🙂 🙂 🙂
September 9, 2016 at 1:06 pm
Lovely words and images Nigel
September 9, 2016 at 4:11 pm
I like the first photo!
September 10, 2016 at 11:50 pm
Thanks. Very evocative words and images.
A visit here always refreshes the spirit.
September 18, 2016 at 7:45 am
Thank you Thom 🙂
Very pleased that you enjoyed this post 🙂
September 23, 2016 at 5:50 pm