The Key Ring

I came upon a red plastic key ring
the other day, you know the kind,
where you look through one end
and there’s a picture at the bottom.
It was of my mum;
sitting in a café in Sherringham
called the Copper Kettle.

She was smiling up at me,
just as I remember her,
wearing her favourite red and a broad grin.
She was holding a cup of tea aloft,
with her little finger sticking up
as if she was saying “cheers”

The longer I looked,
her image seemed to nod and wink;
quite suddenly I became aware of tears on my lashes,
obviously creating the illusion.
It was lovely; just for a heartbeat
it was as if she had magically returned
and I fancied I could hear her giggling…

Strange how the silliest of objects
can turn one’s mind into a time machine.