– My Poems (3)

Hot long days and water fights, We three young graces Playing chasing games With the French girls in their bustiers Bound firmly in place with multiple straps. Why me? Aqua. Girl guides' blouses bursting out all over. He couldn't be trusted with a map on the moor. And the swans swam on As the Chelsea pensioners In their crimson coats Overlooked the Eton mess of my Tiny Turquoise polka dot triangles, Tied up with string, And the streaks of freckles on my Sore pink limbs. Dad had them when they were Tiny flat strapless blobs Beneath the turquoise 'honey' top. Why me? Was it Mum's turquoise stone ring, Indicating the way with its evil eye? Pointing to an impression of his palm In his mind's eye? And planning to traverse the corridor To trespass upon me? © Patricia Goldberg 2021

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