It was ever a mystery to me,
uncle Joe divorcing aunt Florrie.
The whisper was, the boy wasn’t his.
I used to think
“how could he deny it?”
Danny was surely one of us
with his curly nut brown hair
twinkly blue eyes
and gaps in his teeth.
He was whisked away
by his much maligned mother
never to be seen again,
until the old folk faded away
when we were all fully fledged, wiser.
Uncle Joe?
He rapidly replaced his
dowdy doormat wife
with beautiful Beryl and her
half American baby boy…
I was too young to see the irony then;
now I’m inclined to think
it was all a tad too convenient…
©
Copyright
VMM2008
Comments
Nathan Bednarek | October 2, 2008 - 14:33
Welcome to abctales Bradene!
I really like this poem. It's something I can relate to as we have a similar story in our family (though it wasn't about the children). I really like the structure of this poem- very modern.
Well done.
Nathan.
Bradene | October 2, 2008 - 14:48
Thanks Nathan, for the welcome and the feedback. I have been a member here for sometime but it's the first opportunity I have had to submit some work. Just catching up with some reading now. Val