Crescent

I trod these boards as a boy.

Or crept, I should say.

The deep carpets still make my toes skitter.

Three steps down to the living room. Still exciting, somehow.

So much to look at. Everywhere.

A crescent within a crescent: rooms arcing to left and right.

Embracing warmly, as warmly as the homemaker’s arms.

Especially the bathroom:

That blue-green colour that I have been chasing all of my life.

Seldom found. So much given, though. I am deeply thankful.

The greatest treasure? Bobbie the Great.

Measurer of my benchmarks.

Observer of my farings and follies.

Lover of family.

Loved.

 

© Tom Tide 2016

 

4 Comments Add yours

  1. Absolutely love this, so evocative. Anyone reading is in that place with you. More of the same please. (My favourite word today is definitely “skitter.”)

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Roberta says:

      Just read your poem about my home in the crescent. It has been a place of peace and comfort for 52 years and has always welcomed visitors. Although we age, love is always young and grows for ever. We were told by Jesus that we should love each other. Thank you for loving. Keep writing and we will enjoy reading.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Roberta says:

    Lovely Tom. Enjoyed reading it and would love to have been there with you longer. Come again for another visit soon. Hugs from Bobbie.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Tom Tide says:

      Thank you Bobbie. I am very happy that you enjoyed reading it. We will come soon. Love you xx

      Like

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