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“Time”

I am so chuffed to bits. I have just won first prize in my village Writers’ Group poetry competition! I won a pen with Pilton Writers engraved on it. I shall use it all the time!  Sadly, winning meant I had to read it out loud, something I didn’t manage to do without making a fool of myself and blubbing like a baby because I blub at everything including my own writing! Anyway, the theme was ‘Time’ and if you’re interested, here it is…

Time

To Joanna and Thomas

Remember the time
we all went together to Cornwall, but the weather was awful
so we passed the days playing endless games
of monopoly and wist
until Saturday,
when the sun shone and the sand was warm
and you both called me mad
for floating in the shallows on the back of an inflatable dolphin;
with the little ones laughing
and splashing up droplets that had
glitter and sparkle in the light.

Remember the time
at Joanna’s wedding
when the reception was in full swing
and your father and I went out for some peace
and we found a patch of dry moss beneath an ancient oak.
You came and sat with us us for a while
and we spoke
of when you climbed trees in the woods
and up jumped Thomas and said he still could.
I told him he’d ruin his suit, and he said I’d got old
so I followed him up the branches, but jumped down before going too far.
It took three of your cousins and Aunt Jess to help you get down
and several guests standing around
shouting advice.
So you were better entertainment than the disco in the marquee.

Remember the time
when you were quite small
and I played the fairy godmother in a shimmering dress.
You told all your friends that I was so cool;
which I loved, and made me feel young!
You were both mice and wore grey polo-necks, so tight
you walked around trying to stretch the material.
We were on stage together the last night
in the finale and were supposed to be singing something silly,
but we looked at each other
and gave a little wave
that no-one else would’ve noticed.

Remember those times
and forget the last year
of illness, pain and the shallow clicking in my breath
that I know you can hear.
Don’t remember me now, lying useless and strange
with sunken skin, shrivelled grey and cold.
I haven’t much time left to say
about our wonderful love and your beautiful children,
and the good times we’ve had together – remember those
and think of me please
on stage as a fairy,
or playing on a beach,
or climbing trees.

Short stories and Poems,
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Writer, pyrographer, renovator, crafter, photographer and maker of bohemian clothing and costumes.

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