Beatrix is Three -- Adrian Mitchell

(Poem #810) Beatrix is Three At the top of the stairs I as for her hand. O.K. She gives it to me. How her fist fits my palm, A bunch of consolation. We take our time Down the steep carpetway As I wish silently That the stairs were endless. -- Adrian Mitchell

Another poem which stands or falls by the strength of its final line... the
fact that I'm running it suggests that the former case holds <g>.  Indeed, I
think it's quite a successful (if slight) venture - one of those all too
rare poems which capture the essence of a moment, of an emotion, so exactly
that it makes you think you know precisely what the author felt at the time
of composition. Very nice.

thomas.

[Minstrels Links]

Adrian Mitchell poems:
Poem #28, "To Whom It May Concern"
Poem #95, "Nostalgia - Now Threepence Off"
Poem #211, "The Oxford Hysteria of English Poetry"
Poem #337, "Jimmy Giuffre Plays 'The Easy Way'"
Poem #397, "Ancestors"
Poem #623, "Ten Ways to Avoid Lending Your Wheelbarrow to Anybody"