Umbrella

This morning I was waiting at a bus stop in Bath in the rain.  It was gentle, refreshing and very wetting rain.  I was enjoying watching it while sheltering under my umbrella.  And I remembered a poem I wrote a few years ago now, when I was living in London and coming towards the end of my CBT.

Umbrella

Do you know what?
I could buy an umbrella …
my own umbrella …
luxurious.

Would be useful
living in London
lots of the year
it’s quite mild
don’t need
huge numbers of layers
especially in the underground.

But it does rain sometimes
and lots of umbrellas emerge
bobbing along
people walking briskly
looking very together
they don’t arrive at work
dripping

I’d like to be like them.

But before
an umbrella was impossible
cos it needed drying out
usually on the floor
and I couldn’t put things on the floor
very soon I would feel
it was contaminated
and I would have to
throw it away
not worth it.

But a year or so ago
well into therapy
no longer worried
about the floor
I thought
now’s the time
to buy an umbrella.

And I enjoyed it
feeling very swish.

But soon after
I folded it away wet
and left it for what
I thought was too long
before opening it up
to dry it out
no evidence but
thought it must be
riddled with
invisible
super-contaminating
mould spores.

No good
have to throw it away.

But now nearly end of therapy
really is time to try again
no excuses.

Would love to swish past
dry under my umbrella.

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