Cornflower Blind

By Sam Smith

Orphaned, I am in your garden
as he busies in your no-more home
adding up your no-more life.

They’re blue Mum,
a vibrant yet subtle shimmering mob
crowding the brick circle your indecision left barren.

Densely sapphire with a hint of lilac
in this desert-feeling unlikely heat
they lollop thirstily, happily.

More me than you, deliberately,
a flouncy girl still trying
to capture your heart.

The man doesn’t see them.
Dictating dimensions, charting chattels,
he is cornflower blind too.

Being a therapist did not prepare me for the trauma of both my parents dying  as a result of Covid19. 

I wrote ‘Cornflower blind’ sitting in the garden of their house where I had been trying to nurse them, and where my Dad died seven weeks after my Mum. A valuer was inside adding up the spoils of their lives, as I contemplated the flowers that I had planted for my Mum’s return.

Notify of
Inline Feedbacks
View all comments
1 year ago

I think this moving poem paints a very vivid picture in a small space, with glimpses of at least three characters too. It has a beautiful flow. I hope it has helped you to create it. Denise

Rachel Spence
Rachel Spence
1 year ago

This is really beautiful – thank you for sharing it. I’m so so sorry for your loss, Rachel

Let us know what you think of the Poetry and Covid project by completing this short survey… thank you!

Would love your thoughts, please comment.x