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Poems by Janey Sutton

The Witness

A snapshot emblazoned, red hot and tortuous,
In a stillness, surreal and timeless,
Inept and floundering,
I watch.

Life’s essence drips guiltily from her fingers,
The scent of fear saturates the room,
Powerless to help,
I watch.

Her battered body barely visible beneath the sheets,
Lays emaciated, discoloured and decomposing,
Horrified,
I watch.

Agony palpable in her eyes,
Pain in every wretched breath,
Desperately,
I watch.

Time is suspended precariously,
Silently I plead for her,
Frozen,
I watch.

She will never speak to me now,
Unanswered questions rattle my brain,
Angrily,
I watch.

Emotion’s arms mercilessly squeeze my throat and I struggle to breathe,
My legs are attempting to flee while my heart presents its case,
Defeated,
I watch.

An image eternally seared into my memory,
As death’s putrid cloak envelops,
Exhausted, I close my eyes,
But still, I watch.

Florence

Twinkling twittering rolls down the staircase,
Like the first breath of summer.
An adventure in its infancy unfolds in her room.
I devour the magical tale told through a child’s’ eyes,
Fresh and unspoilt,
Like the taste of spring dew.
The scene is set for a magnificent epic,
Simply narrated by a cast of special toys.
She chatters musically, unaware of my presence.
I creep closer to procure a precious glance.
There she sits surrounded by her story,
Bathed in the honeyed evening sunlight,
Incandescent in an autumnal haze.
In adult mimicry she carefully tucks away a tendril of spun gold,
Revealed is a cherubic face ecstatic in honest expression.
I absorb the lisping language dripping innocently from her perfectly
plump lips
I capture her electric wide eyed excitement.
I watch as the fantasy weaves its ethereal thread,
Dancing enticingly around her daring her imagination.
I gaze enraptured in mute wonderment,
Maternal emotions overspill, bursting from my chest.
I yearn to cradle her and greedily inhale her scent.
Temptation tugs at my heels to wrap her in adoring arms.
And preserve her for eternity.
I immerse myself in the exquisite picture and permit its warmth to flood my soul.
She is entirely mine and I utterly hers.
We sit cheek to chubby cheek,
Hands entwined.
Like the perfume of Christmas spices on a winter’s night,
We melt together.
I am lost in her enchantment,
And my heart sings with pure joy.