Cold and Comfort
I never started a 'hope chest'
when you asked me to.
It seemed too much of an invitation
for bad things to happen,
beginning a collection of linen,
crocheted doilies, and baby gowns
for the home and family
I would one day establish.
I was afraid to jinx my chances.
It's winter here now, Mum.
The wind's so cold.
I'm in a wide open place
where I've never been before,
a field, with sparse trees
off in the distance.
Today, I think I might like
to have a hope chest.
I'd fold into it
the rabbit-fur coat Gran gave me
to take out and throw round my shoulders
like the arms of a friend, or mother,
whenever I feel I might fall.
when you asked me to.
It seemed too much of an invitation
for bad things to happen,
beginning a collection of linen,
crocheted doilies, and baby gowns
for the home and family
I would one day establish.
I was afraid to jinx my chances.
It's winter here now, Mum.
The wind's so cold.
I'm in a wide open place
where I've never been before,
a field, with sparse trees
off in the distance.
Today, I think I might like
to have a hope chest.
I'd fold into it
the rabbit-fur coat Gran gave me
to take out and throw round my shoulders
like the arms of a friend, or mother,
whenever I feel I might fall.
posted by burning moon at 9:54 PM
4 Comments:
Yes, it reads well, but personally, I prefer the original layout, I like the way you open talking to your mother about the cold, and then go into the hope chest discussion.
hmmm ... yeah, I sort of like the conversational opening as well.
maybe it sets it up better than jumping in at the hope chest line ... hmmm
thanks
Stunning poem. I loved it.
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