What Games Do Children Play?
Reading Time: 2 minutes
An only child has a vivid imagination, and there was I creating a cave - a make believe cave - with fine soil spooned over a cardboard frame. It was in the narrow flower bed beneath my parents bedroom window. My stomach was tense and sick. I could hear their angry shouting. And as my cave was finished ready for lead soldiers to enter, she said that she would leave him. I vomited away my make believe. And then it rained upon the scene as salty tears silently erupted and dripped on everything beneath my lowered head. I ran into my Grandad's garage, sat, lonely, in his Ford Pilot car and waited. It became dark outside, there was a horrible silence. ----o---- Eventually I was called for Tea. It was my loving grandmother who put her arm around me and guided me back indoors. She sat me on the draining board and washed my face and hands. She must have seen the tear stains but never said a single word. What could she have said? ----o---- Did they know I could hear them? I doubt. The argument too intense, the shouting far too loud. But they made my solid World shake loose. The days that followed were silent and a strange tension filled the air. Every morning I became relieved anew that they were both still there. ----o---- I can still feel that sickness all these years later, that terrible fear my little World might change beyond imagination - for ever. ----o---- I couldn't help it, but, twice, at each of their cremations, I remembered those feelings as I felt their loss for real... ...for ever. © Allen Ansell 2023
Thoughtful and wonderful poem.
You can certainly see your writing skills in your work. All the time go after your heart.
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