WILMA SEVILLE

Seasons of my Life

My feet crunch on icy snow

white clouds, grey underbelly

hover over my bowed head  

ready to dump more white stuff

sun sinks on horizon

ice and snow shimmer

footsteps etched on lake

naked trees shiver in wind

utter silence as I walk

beside Lac St. Louis

fond thoughts of times gone by

I’m “home” for a visit

to touch base with my roots

deep in Lachine soil

black ice underfoot, I slip  

why did I come in winter

temperatures twenty below

a need for boots, overcoat  

scarf and warm mittens?  

Shivering, I walk fast

anxious to get to my cousin’s

place - a haven for me

a return to “home”

We sip hot chocolate

my glasses steam up

we reminisce of 50 years ago

back yard gardens

vegetables & flowers

my favourite spot

the wooden playhouse

which overlooks the lane

new life in Spring

feathery leaves burst out

on gray tree trunks

crocuses & daffodils

lily of the valley thrive.

neighbours venture outside

call greetings and stop to chat

streets and sidewalks alive

with kids playing games

rugby, marbles, hop scotch

skipping and Mother-Mother, May I?

streetlights come on, time is up

hands grip bike handles

strong legs pump - head home

Shad flies, mass together  

mesmerized by light poles

fall victim to man’s wheels

crunch underfoot as I walk

stench overpowers nose

they lie thick on ground

impossible not to step on them

I shudder as I hear them pop

through the lane I race

as the train from Montreal arrives

familiar smells at Lachine Station

I’m glad to see my Dad

summer in Lachine, lazy days

school over - freedom!

summer cottage in Ile Perrot

swimming twice a day

hair washing in the lake

ivory soap floats away  

row boat takes me far

oars dipping into the coolness

of the lake, solitude I desire

to think and to pray

Inner tube on gentle waves

lulls me, refreshes me

peace reigns on this sunny day

all too soon, September here

school days begin again

easy living of summer gone

it’s Halloween, how exciting!

I don my cherished outfit

trick or treat with friends.

bob for apples or sing a song

in the hope of getting a treat

Scene after scene comes

as we walk together down memory lane

tramping through deep snow to the Pier

to pick out a Christmas tree.

decorated tree sparkles with tinsel

photos taken of starry-eyed children

wrapped gifts sit mysteriously

waiting for Christmas day.

our hot chocolate finished

we call it a day, climb the stairs

bid each other a good night

to dream, perhaps, of times gone by.

Copyright(c)WilmaSeville 2015


Editor's note: This poem was written for an on-line group of people from my home town. I have enjoyed writing it and hope that it resonates with others.

A further note, so far on the Lachine group I have had so many good comments on this poem. I am so thrilled that it resonated with so many people. It made my day!