Sunday, 24 August 2014

Memory Lanes

I sit knees tucked under,
leant against the chair,
a  handful of wallets
Ilford , Kodak, Boots Express.

I open a random wallet
and life drops to the floor,
a history in crimped edge photos
parents, brothers more.

A picture from my birthday,
knife in right hand [how wrong!],
 rosy chubby cheeks,
there with my mom.

Primus shielded by tarp,
Back of the car we sit,
A tea break on the journey
On small stools we sit.

A caravan in the New Forest.
Mom standing on a step.
The dog, Lass, good as gold,
a summer day to rest.

A beach, rolling waves
two boys digging in the sand.
Small girl in swimming cosy:
a woman and a man.

The boys sat by the sea,
hair in cow lick style,
mom eating prawns,
Mudeford style.

Happy smiling faces,
50 years of life.
I look at me at one
and then in my mother there.

No one will ever look back
on me as I am now.
No children to miss me.
No rummaging in my past.

I’m looking at my mother.
Reflecting on me now.
So different are our lives,

I wonder how I got here now.

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