Still Life

My first writing activity for the OU course asks us to pick 3 things on our table and write a poem about them,  of at least 20 lines.  Sounds like my kind of poem, but of course,  now I'm worrying if it will be good enough! 

My table wears a cloth of woven blue roses,

It wears my heart upon its sleeve. 

Two foil and plastic blister packs in plain sight,

Within easy reach of the drinks coaster.

Each sheet of fourteen sterile compartments

Has seven empty, seven still waiting,

Their brittle rattle a reminder of ageing,

Of a body no longer up to muster, up to snuff.

One swimsuit, barely two years old,

Its bright pink stripes once dazzling

Now faded from twice-weekly use,

Hangs drying over the dining chair back,

Each strap hooked carelessly over the chair arms,

Recovering after its last half-mile.

One diary, A5, cloth bound in Liberty print,

A week to a view, a poem on each facing page.

A thing of both usefulness and beauty

Keeping the nerves of this new phase at bay

Keeping me on track; its weekly inspiration 

Honouring the poetry in every day.

My table wears a cloth of woven blue roses, 

It wears my heart upon its sleeve.  

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