Wednesday, September 15, 2004

Meeting

Mother and Father
Meet for the first time
He has parked his tank
On the zebra crossing

She is sitting carefully
In a wooden chair
At a slatted wooden table
Sipping weak tea

The sky is an unusual shade
Of grey. Forget-me-nots
In a small, glass tumbler.
Cobalt blue.

Mother and Father
Meet for the first time
Mother sees him on the dance floor
A wind-up gramophone
Plays a Bing Crosby song

Mother and Father
Meet for the first time
At a family gathering
The party erupts
Into a screwed-up paper fight
They hide behind the same sofa

7 comments:

Syl said...

Like the image of this paper-ball fight, with scurrying behind the sofa, two of like minds.

michael said...

Only 96 to your first thousand visitors!
I don't rememember my mum and dad ever throwing paper at each other - they prferred playing with words - scrabble and crosswords - mostly crosswords. They had freindlier words later in life when they became used to living apart.

Syl said...

Ah, Michael... :-(

Roger Stevens said...

Well, it's a poem obviously. I don't know the ins and the outs. But my father did drive a tank in the war. And they did meet during a paper fight at a family get together.

Leviathan said...

Interesting even if it were not true. I have had paper fights, only they didn't involve tanks, and I'm not a mother.

michael said...

My mother and father met after the war in a NAFFI canteen at Westminster. She was in the ATS and handing out cups of tea. Maybe my dad had a newspaper with him and asked for a crossword clue?

hazel said...

some lovely images there...it seems to have sparked many memories too.....(I know I should be doing admin for college but it is so dull.)