Where I lived - winter and hard earth.
I sat in my cold stone room
choosing tough words, granite, flint,
to break the ice. My broken heart -
I tried that, but it skimmed,
flat, over the frozen lake.
She came from a long, long way,
but I saw her at last, walking,
my daughter, my girl, across the fields,
In bare feet, bringing all spring's flowers
to her mother's house. I swear
the air softened and warmed as she moved,
the blue sky smiling, none too soon,
with the small shy mouth of a new moon.
Carol Ann Duffy
Thanks for reading. If you are new or even a frequent visitor, please leave a comment or follow- it's always lovely to know who's supporting you, to make new friends and to share the blog love around. Please also stop by my Facebook and Twitter, which you can do so by clicking on the yellow buttons below.