Poem -

'Don't eat the rhubarb leaves'

'Don't eat the rhubarb leaves'

Today I walked a thousand miles but never moved a  measured yard.

Transported by a choir of memories rising in crescendo.

My father voice so still, so safe, so  silent ….for so long

talking to my rabbit whilst cleaning cages.

Laying on a grassy bank ..anticipating …rolling

down the slope,rotating faster… first grass then  sky then grass and sky again;

caught up in a wondrous heap..dishevelled clothes and hair.

The smell of lunch percolating through the summer air,

bathes me in nostalgia- the longing to be there.

A piece of parchment paper,sugar coating rhubarb chunks,

delicious sourness- so sweet.. eyes crinkling  in delight.

A creaking swing to fly me high…. my feet DO touch the sky.

Another fledgling fallen from its nest up in the roof

and me the saviour, nursing it with milk and soaking bread.

A shoebox in the garden shed with tissues for a bed.

Next day my dad would  always say, ‘all’s well  he’s flown away’

I never knew that ‘flown away’ was really  not the truth

as ‘Florence Nightingale’ for birds was the image of my youth.

The shed that smelled of dads old tools, cane hampers, oily tins,

 dust moving in hypnotic swirls and coating old beach chairs,

a rusty bucket with a spade , a tangled kite, old  bikes,

a pair of roller skates, a hula hoop and dried up tins of paint

 Today I walked a thousand miles, through memories in my mind;

remembering warm and sunny days and pink anemones,

and when it rained, the smell of  dusty pavements filled the air.

The  autumn winds would cut like whetted blades through trees still bare but

Vigorous with life…..

And  chiseled  snowflakes landing one by one on  frosted panes.

Is memory a forgotten sense we like to  locked away?

And just bring out to fill our hearts so full of yesterday…..

Lodigiana

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