sylvia stevens poetry | Mungrisdale Writers

Mrs F’s Fine Food Emporium, Keswick – click photo

There’s a café in the town
that’s not to miss
with a poster saying
50 cents a kiss!
There’s an old piano
anyone can play
and people come and
brighten up the day
The coffee’s good, the soup as well
and cakes too numerous to tell
There are sofas and individual chairs
and dogs are always welcome
no-one minds the hairs
And if you are a one
who likes to knit
there is a shelf of wool
and you can sit
and do a stitch or two
or take away
and bring the knitting
back another day
The candles round the room
a chandelier
all help to give
a welcome atmosphere
So come to Mrs F’s
and rest awhile
You will be greeted
by a cheery smile

Sylvia Stevens

Stardust

The iron clouds shake out
their dust of stars, a galaxy
to feather-fall and form
in powder-patterns on the earth.

Slowly they pile in sleep-soft
pillows on the stones, rounding
the rocks, smoothing the
scars. Lazily they lie on
ledges and along the limbs
of trees; in the settling
silence as colour is covered.

The wind sweeps over the
whiteness, snaking the surface
in ripples and ribbons. Shifting
the spaces to reshape the
ridges. Sifting and circling the
spindrift – high…
to cover the sky.

The silver night crystals the
cloaks of the moon-glazed
mountains; shines in the
glass-cold hollow of a frozen
footprint, in the stillness
in the timeless indigo
under the gazeless glitter of the stars.

Sylvia Stevens