by Samuel Skuse

I remember.
Under the dwindling light of that fading day
I watched my mother, from the window 
of the room I shouldn’t be in.
No one stops me now.

She loved her garden.

Nestled in Eden, the nurse of nature nourished.
My heart would fill to a millpond
to see her gentle hands with such willing care
bring life to the roaring colours
and blossoming beauty.

The memory lingers, yet seems resigned to leave,
like a tiring train pulling sleepily away. 
Though I chase it as far as the platform allows,
it disappears regardless.

But she remains, still
her soul echoes in these walls,
her laughter dances through the years,
quiet as a choir,
Her sermon sung.

The Poor Print

Established in 2013, The Poor Print is the student-run newspaper of Oriel College, Oxford. Written by members of the JCR, MCR, SCR and staff, new issues are published fortnightly during term. Our current Executive Editors are Siddiq Islam and Jerric Chong.

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