The Lights Went Out

      The Lights Went Out - Stormwolf

A poem that came to me the other day while attending to my garden.

Time passed in a constrained fashion.

Over the years, the garden
became her pride and expression
of all she hoped to pass on,

Remembering childhood tales
from a friend’s grandfather
who convinced her that bird’s nests
in the ivy walls, were fairy lairs
and magic was inherent in all of nature.

 That excitement and wonder
never left her
all those decades later.
Though life almost battered
the enchantment out of her
a remnant remained.
Igniting an imagination and entry
to her exquisite inner worlds,
where such things were as real
as breathing.

Yes, to this day.

Grandchildren arrived
and the garden became enriched
with fairy lights,
figurines peeping from ferns,
wind chimes gave voice to the breeze
and everything sang to her soul.

She knew their enchantment
was a deposit in their memory banks
for later.
Their delight became tinkling bells
and soothing gongs
echoing timelessly in her heart.

A lightening bolt!
cruel fate tore them from her arms
and their sacred space.
The agony of loss became expanded vision
for all children and so

The ‘Fairy Garden’ was born.

Much joy was derived
seeing small hands on the gate
as parents and grandparents
lifted the infants high
to try to catch a nature sprite in action.

she wearily summoned the energy
to trim the hedges, where the lights
gave sparkling joy in summer
and spoke of hope
in dark winter nights.

Immersed in the stolen years,
lost in time
her hands slipped…
severing the line
to everything she tried to maintain.

Viewing the metaphorical end
of connection…

The lights went out

Both without




© stormwolf 2023
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A lovely telling, Alison. It could be metaphorical in so many ways, your tale. But isn’t it a wonderful thing to be able to create those ever to be cherished memories in Children. Such simple things that inspire and ignite the imagination, and the conjuring of thought – perhaps with good ideas that otherwise might never have entered their heads. I invented fairy sandwiches for my two. Though now each in their forties, they still remember them and comment on them. I hope to remain in their memories for much more than fairy sandwiches, but I’ll take that alone if… Read more »

Last edited 1 year ago by griffonner

It is nice that your idea is giving pleasure to so many.


Wistful, magical and witheringly sad at the end. What a journey though… prosetry as Boz would say.
i love its rambling nature, the narrative in keeping with the narrator… and then bam!! The light went out, like you said at the start.
you’re my first nomination under the new dispensation.
Jim x


What a splendid poem this is. I was missing your poems, good you’re back with the strike of the gong. Listen it was easy for me to understand because of the striking similarity of thinking we share, despite being poles apart. I did not stop, kept on reading the lines, the texture, the finesse, the softness with which the hard facts of life you painted were phenomenal. To you, I have only one thing to say, and that is, keep writing. I have come back to say something to you in Bengali I am so happy: ভীষণ ভাল লিখেছ, প্রিয়… Read more »

Last edited 1 year ago by supratik

charming, Alison. “exquisite inner worlds”, yes. Swep


Allison, a sad/sweet tale, and you say it just came? Then it is inspired – and of course it will have been. So glad to be reading your work, as this is new to me. There is a story here, of having and loosing, and seeking again; and it is about giving children happiness to hold on to in later years. I appreciated the cut power line as a metaphor for the severance in ones life. And I hope the garden will always grow.

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