Poem: At the Window

Sooner or later it is our own turn at the window.

At the Window

A small inheritance from my brother
    and what does it mean?
It means he loved me, found me needy
    late in life
That he has stood at the window and moved on
    and now I am the next in line
    and will move on like him,
    but without a legacy to leave

It means the small cold feeling
    of a printer cartridge run out,
    or unexpected electric-bills,
    need no longer turn me to panic
He smiles at me from a photograph,
    the only one I have and puts his arm around me,
    taking care of my careless self
Grins his grin, winks and leaves the window
Poetry Collection: The Smell of Tweed and Tobacco
This poem is included in
Jim Freeman's
poetry collection


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