Tuesday, 15 May 2007

A Present From James


In my pocket, worn bright by daily touch,

I carry a conker. A strong brown nut from

My long legged boy who threw the stick,

Who kept his eye on where his target fell,

Who placed his heel on its spiked shell

And twisted with just the right weight

Before giving this gift to me.

"Look, dad," proud, he said "It's a good 'un"

Yes, son, a good one, the best. Proudly,

I lift my head at my desk, remembering,

As I stop before the reassertion of work

To see the neighbour's chestnuts sway.

Their conic blossoms like candles

On the most ornate of birthday cakes.

A promise of more fruit for next year

For children to covet and collect.

Other pockets to fill.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

I think i like this one best - no writing recently?

dan said...

Work and bereavement have meant a bit of a seizure.

I am hoping to get soemthing together shortly.

Thank you for reading the work and leaving a comment, particularly a positive one!

Baylee said...

Well written article.