Years Slip By
Back then I sat in a high chair
swirly soft porridge and milk.
I told my hand to use a spoon
it worked! I squealed with delight.
It's dinner time now and
we're far too loud.
We sit with our hands on our heads;
quietest one gets a sweetie.
I bet it's Richard (the nannies like
I play netball on a Tuesday at 6.
There's a girl
there called Catherine Bell.
She's horrible and no one likes
but she bribes me with chips 'cos she's rich.
around the streets is fun,
with a group of thugs everyone's
But Jonesy is hungry and has no money.
his "Tainted Love" for rice.
Oh John and I, we're so
We're getting engaged when I'm seventeen.
A cafe has
opened in the village;
we drink coffee, play pool and look
Administration. Christ, how did I get here?
boredom is murdering my mind.
Office parties fuelled with
cocktails and wine.
Dull people now loudly dull.
eyes and champagne,
painted fingernails, a new ring.
and music, laughter and love.
Generations of hope
Fresh orange and organic food;
a resolution to
It has it's purpose of course,
but I'm keeping
that a secret.
It's 6am and my baby wakes.
He won't sit in
his high chair but still,
he loves swirly soft porridge and warm
and waves his spoon around with delight.
There's a new China Town in the
the Indians have lost their monopoly.
And the chip shop
sells magic mushrooms.
It's quite legal, apparently.
here as a dinner lady,
watching all these tiny smiling
eating pizza, pies and teddy bear cakes
broccoli is just not nice.
John died at the height of last
I laid out the comfort for grief
with wet eyes and cold
Could I ever recover from this?
But now the loss
of youth is eased.
With my grandchild, I walk in the sun.
doesn't care for swirly porridge at all.
Ah well, time moves on...
© Miakoda 2005
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