Sunday Afternoon
A radio plays forgotten people to lost people.
Grandpa sits and chews his pipe.
Sister chews and sits her hair.
I watch from the corner, my mouth closed.
Mother’s in the kitchen cackling with Auntie.
Football on the TV inspires and deflates Dad.
Overcooked chicken fills the air of the house
and paints a hole in my stomach.
I stand for attention but get in the way.
The sun is out and we’re inside.
Where’s Grandma? She’s in the bathroom,
don’t disturb. Knock knock. Paul’s come round.
Outsid, I bounce in the yard playing wall-y.
Paul’s no good and I win easily
hitting the last shot at an angle,
falling over and scraping my knees.
Mum won’t be happy.
I’ll have concrete scabs for days.
<Deleted User> (5646)
Sun 14th Jun 2009 12:01
Hi John,
i can easily recall days like these.
It's a change of pace for you which takes a bit of getting used to unless it's one you dragged out of the archives. Like it though.
Janet.x