#poem #poetry #awmriting posh girls

posh girls

joanne's kitchen smells of the drying lilac
hanging in sheaves from the low hanging rafters
between the colander and frying pans

a curled tabby cat on a chair at the head of the table
yawns as we enter - a single curling claw extends and contracts

everything from the gypsy roses hand-painted on the units
to the gently distressed oak table has her mark -
a studiously balletic grace of respectful age and art

   and the tinge on inheritance
   that the lilacs cannot disguise

The Blue Book