New Story

[Delta40]

The old man is dying
Pre-paid funeral on a pre-paid life
Now I’m sifting through a shoebox of photos
Marked Just Do It.
The resentments are like moths now
They used to race around the track
And there I was, a child,
Staring at Bagpuss and Wombles
Expecting to be seen, to be heard
To be loved like I deserved it.
I have sideburns that have
Never healed
Like when I got snapped up at the beach
by a Kodak shark.
Today I ‘manage’ the trauma in my guts
The adult me, teenage me, child me
I hang onto the turmoil of smells.
Double Diamond, Embassy No. 26, Brut 33
Dad’s whiskers against my cheek and large rough hands
The shoebox is becoming a memento of things
to be grateful for
The old man has gone
Once, he told me I was pretty
Another time he said I was ****ty.
When he left Mum I thought I was nothing but
roadkill on an outback road
Perhaps I was just collateral damage
Here’s Dad holding my hand at the fair.
smiling, rocking my baby
Look at me safe in his arms loving him
with all my heart.
Often Bagpuss and Wombles
Save me from
my chinks, my flaws, all the closed doors.
Surrendering to love,
My willingness to write a new
Story as dappled light shines upon me
Begins

[AuntShecky]

Long time no see! Good to see that you're posting again.

[Jerrybaldy]

It’s hard to tell your personal story when only you lived it x

[Delta40]

It’s hard to tell your personal story when only you lived it x

That's true.

[Jerrybaldy]

There was no embassy 26. There was a number 10 and a number 6. But that doesn’t matter. Although unique to you it’s accessible to me and others and relatable and appreciated by all who read you.

[kiz_paws]

The old man is dying
Pre-paid funeral on a pre-paid life
Now I’m sifting through a shoebox of photos
Marked Just Do It.
The resentments are like moths now
They used to race around the track
And there I was, a child,
Staring at Bagpuss and Wombles
Expecting to be seen, to be heard
To be loved like I deserved it.
I have sideburns that have
Never healed
Like when I got snapped up at the beach
by a Kodak shark.
Today I ‘manage’ the trauma in my guts
The adult me, teenage me, child me
I hang onto the turmoil of smells.
Double Diamond, Embassy No. 26, Brut 33
Dad’s whiskers against my cheek and large rough hands
The shoebox is becoming a memento of things
to be grateful for
The old man has gone
Once, he told me I was pretty
Another time he said I was ****ty.
When he left Mum I thought I was nothing but
roadkill on an outback road
Perhaps I was just collateral damage
Here’s Dad holding my hand at the fair.
smiling, rocking my baby
Look at me safe in his arms loving him
with all my heart.
Often Bagpuss and Wombles
Save me from
my chinks, my flaws, all the closed doors.
Surrendering to love,
My willingness to write a new
Story as dappled light shines upon me
Begins

Loved this poignant gem, Delta.