Sandra

You know those moments when someone comes to check up on your life and be amused by it- and the visitor is actually another version of yourself? Well, this poem is about one of those moments. 

I went and dug it out of the archive because today is a day just like the one it describes- cold and dank,  with the colours of things seeming to glow from within because there isn't any sun.

                                    SANDRA

                                    Heavy boned Sandra opens the gate,

                                    Out of the leaf-mould onto the lawn

                                    Of the orange-brick semi.  She smells of her day

                                    In a classroom glassed against sodden November.

 

                                    Sunless November, the forms are glowing

                                    With implicate energy.  Sandra says,

                                    "So this is myself as I am in my teens

                                    As a fashion-disaster and senselessly happy."