Some Of These Things

'Golden Chain', oil and egg tempera on canvas by Olivia Irvine. 

Some of These Things

Imagine some of these things

Not just the glint of a hard, blue glacier

Nor the curl of wrought iron on a bench by the Seine

Not even the haunting music from a pink house,

Chanced upon on a midnight walk

But old, blotched walls

A carpet, faded and worn

A diving platform, a broken parasol, a creaky hinge

And a heart drawn hastily on a greasy window

Imagine and be there

Where the bright leaves dance in the tangled dell

And the rose trellises carve out spaces in the sky

Stay a while and touch the smooth, orange beacons

Left by lopped off branches on the crumbly trunks

Open the cupboard where the imaginary thing lives

Hit that soaring, plastic shuttlecock

Maybe you once had the shell I put in my pocket for a while

Sat on that same lonely, stony shore

And swung on that same peeling gate

Even so

I want to show you the actual tent poles and the signposts

The spotted dresses, the lampposts, the trodden path

I want you to see for yourself

The exact spot we hid the treasure

Feel for yourself the curl of the fine chain on your hand

The drag of a bag on the floor

The soft folds of that curtain drawn aside

Hear the ringing ankle bells

The buffeting whip of a kite

And the crisp turning of another page

Olivia Irvine               January 2012