Swaddled and happy,

I drown in my aunty’s best coat;

here on mottled kodak paper,

monochrome fun in a breeze block back yard,

swimming through sixties patchouli oil,

an eight year old ginger face

grinning back through time and fake fur,

hem brushing scuffed Clarks T Bar sandals,

heavy raglan sleeves pulled high

over skinny, freckled arms,

all worries shelved for the afternoon,

banished in a box brownie session,

standing by my mother’s youngest sister

with her smile that carried the day,

the years,

the decades.