A collection of my autobiographical poems |
The annual Boxing Day barbeque, an institution. Tradition. Family. Caitie painstakingly painting Nana Rose's fingernails. And Daddy's. Water pistols and water bombs, taking the edge off summer's heat. Blowing bubbles for toddlers who add a special dose of magic and wonder to Christmas... until they get tired and cranky! Aaron's gift that is ever after regifted and regifted, and regifted again. Tent set up on the lawn for excess guests. Poppa Pete's stories, heard them all before, but everyone gathers around to listen again anyway. Jim running back and forth from the kitchen, plates piled high, glasses full, bellies stuffed. Munching on summer berries and chocolates, just because they're on the table. Steve's alcoholic fruit mince. Very potent. Mince pies and Christmas cake. Sue's trifle. Don't eat it all! It's really for breakfast tomorrow. Sit around, drinking, chatting, listening to Pink Floyd and classic rock, and random songs from the '80s and '90s, until everyone exchanges sleepy smiles and heads to bed or home. Let's do it all again next year. Free verse. Written 14 September 2015. |