Are We Nearly There Yet?

I have just read Crysse Morrison's book of stories and poems, and was inspired, if that's the word, to write my first poem in about 45 years! It does not do justice to the book, but in the spirit of sharing, here goes anyway:

Are We Nearly There Yet?

asks Crysse in her prime.

The title makes me somewhat sad,

Was it written after wine?

The past is there, the present too,

and promise of her pastures new.

Are We Nearly Where Yet?

is the question in my mind.

I cannot fault the poems,

not least because they’re true.

They show the writer’s story

the way that writers do.

I love “the words she wants to write”,

and the peach that must be ravished,

I love the words that must be praised,

the emotions that are savaged.

She copes with love,

she lives with death,

she shares emotional belongings.

She writes it down

So it makes sense,

She questions all her longings.

The stories give us characters

that we’ve all seen before,

on streets, in homes, in lives past lived,

they give the book its soul.

I love Leonora with her erotic aura,

And Julie’s Mr Pemberley, who saw what he was meant to see.

But the page that tops the lot for me

Is the Epilogue’s discovery.

It helps me with my quandary,

Maybe there is still hope for me!