Thursday, 1 December 2011


They sit warming by the fire,
married for sixty five years,
their stories knotted together
like the crocheted blankets
that cover their creaky knees.

The steady tick of the grandfather clock
in the hallway is in time with tennis balls
flicking from side to side on television,
and beyond these exertions stands

the hill opposite, the trees, grey horses and
they tell me how there is an old pair of ravens
in the woods, and tell me how the ache
in their throaty cries can sound
like voices in the mist and drizzle.

Their old eyes watch in the quiet
and in the silence and the calm
and amongst the steady ticking
there is everything they need in life,
their twilight years, alive with grace.


Anonymous said...

Brilliant & beautiful poem... I see it as a love poem, and a really good one, filled with wisdom. I really like how you have expressed the couple noticing the beautiful things and even the less beautiful things, with gratitude and acceptance...Perfect ending as well. :)!

Mark Sargeant said...

Thanks for the lovely feedback, Jade. This couple and the old house in which they lived was very still, calm and at peace. There was a contentment there that I wanted to capture.