Poetry by Marcelle Newbold

Hot chocolate

And that is when I missed you 
right then. When the tears galloped
from my eyes and would not stop.
Not dead yet.
When you bought to me hot chocolate 
in a takeaway cup through
the howling wind, 
foam frothing, 
flat cap nodding,
glint of water at eyes edge. I miss you.
Not dead yet.

​


The day after

A ladybird, a ladybird
the first ladybird of spring
came visiting today.
Or was it you Grandma?
Back from behind the drawn curtain
where we had to leave you, yesterday.

Settled on the lurid green
plastic tot slide,
surveying the fun:
the run, the laughter,
the weak promising sun.

​​

Marcelle Newbold loves poetry as a way of exploring inner ramblings. She addresses the immediate emotions of the day to day: the unexceptional as precious moments. A member of The Dipping Pool writing group, she lives in Cardiff, Wales where she trained as an architect.

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