Jim by Philomena Barry

Jim- a poem by Philomena Barry

I am the grains of sand
You carry home from the beach,
I am the spider’s web
That you can’t quite reach,
I am the fragment of dream
That you almost remember,
I am the light from the fire
And the crackling embers,
I am the rain on your face
And the wind in your hair,
I am the hand on your shoulder
When you think I’m not there,
I am the far away music
You pick out of the distance,
I am the stiff old door
That meets you with resistance,
I am the book in your hand
When you’ve fallen asleep,
I am the burst of laughter
When you thought you might weep,
I am the stars in the sky
On a clear, dark night,
I am the ink in your pen
When you feel moved to write,
I am the canvas, the colours,
The brush in your hand,
I am painting it with you,
At your elbow I stand.

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