Lesson 18


There were magnolias outside my window,
Purple in bud, pink and white in blossom.
When the window was open, the branches,
Resting on the sill, reached into the room.

On a quiet summer afternoon I stood
Watching the garden and the street beyond,
Where, in the dusty sunlight, moved a group
Of laughing, shouting cyclists. As they passed,
Their sound moved, merging with the flowers' perfume.

Even now, the scent of those magnolias
Washes in my mind; though the grey gales
Of winter have returned to haunt me
In an alien sky, latticed only with memory.

Copyright 1986, 2002
Kerry Elizabeth Thompson
and MouseWorks Productions


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