The glory before the collapse

We have this great plan

I hope it will carry me
Doll buggy breaks down.

(Photo: Kim, Karen, and Lia, 1959, Caracas Venezuela)

All dolled up

Behind the fence, the tortoise says, "Look at the three creatures all dolled up." It wanders over, "Will they give me some lettuce leaves? No, they are all chatter and no food."

(Photo: Kim, Karen, and Lia, 1959, Venezuela)

Another year gone by

Where are you today?
Hanging out with a new crowd?
Or just sitting contentedly in
The quiet of your own company?
 
Did you take over
The spirit of an old Arab
Whose wisdom and kindness
Weaves deeply into the hearts
Of a large, chaotic family
Who are scattered everywhere
Across the globe, yet…
When anyone thinks of family
They are sitting right next to you
With smiles painted
Broadly across their faces
And a tenderness of mind.
 
Or, did you quickly manage
To return as that bright
And brilliant Hollywood star,
Standing on a stage
At an awards ceremony
Talking of your greatness
And half believing
This is absolutely true.
And half believing
It is only a bad joke,
And wondering why
Everyone is upset about
Your audacity to speak out loud
What they covet so dearly.
 
Could you be spending
The eternity since your leaving
Recklessly riding the tops of waves,
Breaking across the decks
Of massive vessels whose
Crews bow to you in wonder
And fright, knowing
How precarious their lives are.

Yet, also knowing so well
The bliss of surrender.
 
I know you are here, but
Still do not know where here is.
Even after all this time,
Sometimes, talking to you
In my thoughts, does nothing
But mask the loss, the absence
You cleaved out of our lives
With the passing of yours.

Reincarnation of a rugby player

Look at that idiot traipsing around. What a wimp. The old me would have ploughed him down with one shift of my shoulder. I could have stomped him into the ground and left him to be scraped up by his sissy friends. I could have taken them all on without flinching.

Bloody hell, this coat itches. Who puts a coat on a dog? God, if they only knew me back then. They’d be bloody terrified.

Photo by Erik Mclean on Unsplash

Timeless play in paradise

Well over half a century ago, three little girls played on Grand Anse Beach. There were no tourists then on the beach, only the occasional passerby who would inevitably wander over and tease them in one manner or another.

They dug a hole to China. Built a castle until a wave came and tore the walls down. Chattered excitedly about fanciful sea monsters crawling up and grabbing their legs. Bickered when the cloak of boredom smothered their imaginations.

They ran from all that fun when their stomachs cried out in hunger, and with the sudden realisation struck them that they were alone. They scattered up the beach, soft sand breaking between their toes, towards the shaded terrace where their mother and other women were luxuriating in amiable conversation, seemingly oblivious to the charge of the cavalry racing their way.

(Photo: Lia, Karen, and Kim, 1958, Venezuela)