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..
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.
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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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