Your dress

Source: Your dress


Your dress

Your favourite dress hangs on the clothes line

In your garden.

You washed it then

rung it out to dry

Before suspending it in the light

Of a warm Italian morning sun.

The chickens are pecking at the ground,

While your small white dog

Sleeps curled up

At your feet.

Your cotton dress

With the midnight poka dots

Seems to float in the air.

You have worn this dress more

Than a dozen times.

Your feet ache from all the times you have danced in this dress.

Those late nights you snuck out of your house with your sisters

Walking for miles

Before reaching the dance hall.

Returning home in the early hours

With your shoes in your hand,

Tiptoeing into bed,

Still in your dress.

How quickly the sun

Dries the  fabric.

You hold it up to your face;

It is warm and smooth and

Smells of camphor


A hint of lemon.

J. Hamilton






Sky high

IMG_20150815_182421900I will sit here


For you to help me

reach the branches of this tree.

For this tree knows our secrets

And whispers them to the wind.

Lift me high up into its sun-warmed shoulders.

Let us sit together and watch the blazing sun set

To where its branches

Hold its heat

And endless sky.

You and i

Will drink the light

And touch the sky.


By J. Hamilton






At the bus station

Early afternoon at the bus station.

Sun streaming through windows.

A box at my feet.

Something I will hang on a tree branch,

Listen to its melody when the leaves have all fallen,

When the wind blows through the wind catcher

I will hear its notes

Like quiet conversation at first

Then laughter.

What follows next

Are echoes

Of something else.

It is as though the faces

And the silence inbetween

Become the sounds

Floating in the air.

Arrivals and departures.

The box

That soon gets opened.

The steel beams that sway and catch the light.

The beautiful music;

A presence of something both seen

And felt.

The final destination.

A place where the music waits.

by J. Hamilton