Stitching Together
There’s no fabric under the foot
and the machine isn’t plugged in.
It doesn’t need to be now.
She’s dreaming of her treadle
and the hand turned one.
Both dressed her
in her youth
cheaply
and sometimes
eccentrically.
She reads a note from the past
a piece of paper
a tiny fragment
but full of awakened dreams.
She thinks of that girl
sitting there sewing
then.
And now
stitching together
pieces
of a life
well lived
making
a patchwork
of her time.
Like Father Like Son
I wanted to be like my father,
to follow in his footsteps,
or rather,
his wheel-steps
as he drove his tram along the shiny rails.
We played the game constantly to give me practice
but I couldn’t quite get the hang of driving.
I was scared of crashing and tumbling on to the city streets.
So he bought me a Conductors uniform
and a bag for the money and tickets.
He drove and I sold the tickets.
It was a good compromise.
I think about it now as I look down on the city,
with its streets and green spaces
which no longer have trams.
“Like Father Like Son” first appeared in Verse Virtual.
Lynn White lives in north Wales. Her work is influenced by issues of social justice and events, places and people she has known or imagined. She is especially interested in exploring the boundaries of dream, fantasy and reality. She has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net and a Rhysling Award. Find her on her blog or on Facebook.
Sparks of Calliope 