Sunday, October 6, 2013

Sunday Morning Poetry


My mother's old leather handbag,
crowded with letters she carried
all through the war. The smell
of my mother's handbag: mints
and liptsick and Coty powder.
The look of those letters, softened
and worn at the edges, opened,
read, and refolded so often.
Letters from my father. Odour
of leather and powder, which ever
since then has meant womanliness,
and love, and anguish, and war.
~ Ruth Fainlight


Claire T said...

Smell can take us so many places. Thank you for this, dear friend!

S. Etole said...

Powerful impact in this photo and poem.

Jeanne said...

Beautiful sentiments my sweet friend.
I love all that you share.
Love Jeanne

Jeanie said...

This may be my favorite of any poem you have ever posted-- tremendously evocative of time, place and personality. It's a keeper.

Jennifer Richardson said...

mmmmmm...I can smell it:)

Lisa Gordon said...

This is really beautiful, Relyn!

Marilyn said...

Oh I remember such ladies and the odour for sure. What images the words and your photo create.

Pearl Maple said...

beautifully captured moments and memories

Oldies, but Goodies