Val Cook chose this months poem. She says of it, "Linda's poem reminded me of my dad's ladder. I don't have his ladder but I remember it clearly being full of paint splashes like the ladder in the poem. I like Linda's poem because it is evocative without being over sentimental."

Find out more about Lynda and her work at http://www.writeoutloud.net/poets/lyndarosemorgan

Dad's Ladders

I have dad's ladders now.
Though they are not used much
they are indispensable.
Any time I like I can run
a finger over the past.
I can feel the Braille characters of a knobbly
moment when the paint splashed
a step.
Memories of rooms we painted
together are condensed
into elegant white gloss pennies
strewn on the footholds.
Fingerprints of frosted lilaces
flower over the hand rail.
My mistake the red
a lonely puddle
on the top tread.
Today I slip my foot into yours
as I ascend the ladder,
to add a new memory.
Terracotta and green.
The colour of my new kitchen.

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