Je suis, j’habite, je m’appelle
Écoute, c'est Carol ...
I sit here in my salle de classe,
crayon in my hand,
cahier on my desk
only half listening
to the French lesson,
to les élèves chanting
the seasons. Aujourd’hui
la neige tombe
and I watch it
through the window
and wish I could run out
into it, bury myself
like a flapping snow angel.
I imagine a girl
in France somewhere
watching it fall,
the way the flakes twirl
and dance, not listening
to the professeur
or the rest of her class
repeating I am, I live, I am called.
crayon in my hand,
cahier on my desk
only half listening
to the French lesson,
to les élèves chanting
the seasons. Aujourd’hui
la neige tombe
and I watch it
through the window
and wish I could run out
into it, bury myself
like a flapping snow angel.
I imagine a girl
in France somewhere
watching it fall,
the way the flakes twirl
and dance, not listening
to the professeur
or the rest of her class
repeating I am, I live, I am called.
This poem is copyright (©) Carole Bromley 2024
About the Writer
Carole Bromley
Carole has won the Caterpillar Prize and had poems in Tyger, Tyger, The Toy, Paper Lanterns, Paperbound, Little Thoughts Press and Northern Gravy as well as in her collection, Blast Off! and anthologies from MacMillan, Nosy Crow and Emma Press. She does readings and workshops at festivals and in schools and in 2024 is tutoring courses on writing poetry for children at the Garsdale Retreat and for the Writing School online.
