Gedicht
Paul Henry
THE SNOW DOME
THE SNOW DOME
THE SNOW DOME
First sun, then snow . . . my father floats up the lanein white jeans, a white rose in his claw.
He cuts a Lear-like figure, drifting alone
through the sun and snow.
‘Wherever your mother goes, I follow,’
he mutters, brushing the icing from her stone,
its doorstep to a colder house. It snows
and shines about our ornamental scene.
We can’t see for the petals of the rose.
He says she kissed his bald head in the lane,
first with sun, then snow.
© 2005, Paul Henry
From: Planet magazine
From: Planet magazine
Gedichten
Gedichten van Paul Henry
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THE SNOW DOME
First sun, then snow . . . my father floats up the lanein white jeans, a white rose in his claw.
He cuts a Lear-like figure, drifting alone
through the sun and snow.
‘Wherever your mother goes, I follow,’
he mutters, brushing the icing from her stone,
its doorstep to a colder house. It snows
and shines about our ornamental scene.
We can’t see for the petals of the rose.
He says she kissed his bald head in the lane,
first with sun, then snow.
From: Planet magazine
THE SNOW DOME
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