The pushchair
had no springs
every bump jarred
my baby bones.
The wheels clattered
over the gravel path.
The sound of breath
whistling through teeth
dotted with words and whoops of delight
made me giggle.
We headed pell-mell
for the bridge.
The Flying Scotsman was coming,
the brothers must see it.
I was clinging for my life
when suddenly, clunk..
The front wheels came off.
I went flying through the air
propelled forward, landing on my face.
My little lungs
expelled the air explosively.
On it’s way up it
played a tune on my vocal chords
pushing out a scream of agony.
Blood spurted,
tears and snot
mingled
to paint my face a horror.
Gravel in my mouth,
newly grown teeth
hung on bloody pieces of gum.
Grandma, gardening
at that precise moment
came running.
Poor Podge and Degs
got a clip around their ear holes
and the Scotsman flew by unnoticed.
©
Copyright
VMM2008
Comments
Silver Spun Sand | October 3, 2008 - 12:54
Oh dear, Val! Do you know, I had a pushchair like that once. It was green and I know exactly what you mean about the sound it made. I can still hear it today.
Your poem brought back some very fond memories for me, although I was never lucky enough to see the Flying Scotsman. Except of course on the news-reels at the Saturday morning flicks.
Much enjoyed:-)
Tina x
Bradene | October 3, 2008 - 12:58
Thanks Tina, You know I have been a member here for ..oh it must be a couple of years and I had completely forgotten until you reminded of it the other day, I thought, why not and I'm so glad that I did, like you say new eyes etc' I'm glad you enjoyed my little memory. Val x