PRIDE

In the nude my brother aged two

now eighty seven stands on a cafe chair,

his right foot balances on his left.

 

Supporting him, fingers across his back

thumbs across his chest

my mother smiles with pride. 

 

She wears a long practical apron

in her Battersea back yard long before the war

and he wears such a knowing look.. 

◄ REEL STREETS

HUNTER'S MOON ►

Comments

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raypool

Fri 22nd Oct 2021 16:12

Your like is appreciated Jennifer, thanks.

Graham, that was a little touch that I found amusing. He did have a penchant at mirror conducting in later life. He actually became a teacher, and retired at 50, lucky sod. I agree there is a very distant feeling in the poem.

Stephen, we can all respond in our own way to the vagaries of time; I have been an archivist for all my predecessors old photos.

Ray

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Stephen Gospage

Thu 21st Oct 2021 17:59

A lovely poem, Ray. It encapsulates the passing of time. When my dad was getting very old, I found a photograph of him as a little boy, sitting on a wall with his brothers and sisters. It made a great impression.

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Graham Sherwood

Thu 21st Oct 2021 16:54

Did he go into ballet Ray? Or perhaps life drawing?
a wonderful snapshot of 1936, before the bad stuff started to happen! I hope he was smiling.

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