Vincent Van-Gogh Vincent Van-Gogh
Jean Francois Turpin 'Pear' Jean Francois Turpin,'Pear'

The Messenger by the Pear Tree

It was myself, I saw, late that night,
From the attic bedroom window, roused from sleep,
Standing by the withered pear tree
In the charcoal fading light,
Each, looking to the other, me, looking at me.

Night had summoned the messenger
To rap upon the pane, all was silent,
Except for crickets and the squeaky weather-vane,
No words passed between us, yet still, I felt,I knew,
That he would laugh his manic laugh
And disappear from view.

I looked towards the river,
Saw ruins, bathed in gloom
And wore my cloak of darkness
Within my tiny room.
I wore my cloak, like courage,
To ward away my fright
And heard his manic laughter
Vanish, in the night.

I stood beneath the pear tree
In the charcoal fading light,
And saw my childhood self,
Pale-face drawn with fright
Peering from the window
At the messenger, by the tree
Each, looking to the other,
Me, looking at me.