On Sundays we’d go fishing,
on Clapton Common; Dad
and me. Thermos flask,
and red, chequered blanket,
there we two would sit
at the edge of the pond –
makeshift rod in a four-year
old’s dimpled fists; a twig,
tied with garden string.
Asked my dad, when the fish
would bite, and what kind
were they, anyway? ‘Not sure;
teeming with fry though.
Could be salmon, or trout –
even the odd shark, or two,’
he said, knowing full well
the only aquatic life it held –
tiddlers, tadpoles and frogs.
Mouth agog with amazement,
casting my line to the skies
watched it make a perfect arc,
run rings around a midday sun,
then sway in slow motion –
suspended, in space, almost
as if time had stood still.
‘Look...there!’ he cried.
‘A hatch of dragonfly.’
Blue on blue; their sole
reason to be born;
to feed, to fly, to swarm
above this pond. For once
I had no questions, and he
had no answers.
Hugging me to his chest,
he asks can I see them – eyes
tight shut as if to offer up a prayer
we could keep this shining moment,
and for forgiveness, for the fishy yarn
he’d sold me, spun from afternoons
like these, by a man – ever
a child inside.
Comments
Blessing | November 27, 2011 - 22:52
I smiled then I laughed. So glad you can remember being 4 Silver Spun, believe it or not I know people who can't remember below 6/7 years old.
Daniel Saint-John | November 27, 2011 - 23:15
Brought me memories.
More poems like this, please.
Excelsior!
Daniel Saint-John | November 27, 2011 - 23:18
Brought me memories.
More poems like this, please.
Excelsior!
Highhat | November 28, 2011 - 06:13
Such a nice picture of child and father.
;)Pia
skinner_jennifer | November 28, 2011 - 16:06
What a tender loving moment with your Father Tina.
I too think it's wonderful to remember those
special moments and you have put it so poetically
in this piece.
Jenny.
rjnewlyn | November 29, 2011 - 00:42
Wonderful - so very evocative.
Rob
Silver Spun Sand | November 29, 2011 - 08:57
Hi there, Blessing. Yes, I do remember my early childhood quite vividly, but my husband, like you say, has no memories before he was seven;-)
Pleased you enjoyed and thanks for your lovely comment;-)
Tina
Silver Spun Sand | November 29, 2011 - 11:03
Daniel - thank you;-)
Tina
Silver Spun Sand | November 29, 2011 - 11:03
Pleased you thought so, Pia, and many thanks for letting me know;-)
Tina
Silver Spun Sand | November 29, 2011 - 11:05
Thanks, Jenny;-)
I moved away from London when I was eleven, and having laid eyes on that pond since...but I can still see it so clearly in my mind. We used to have a tin with us, full of wriggling worms I'd collected from our garden to tie on the end of the line. Yuk!
Tina
Silver Spun Sand | November 29, 2011 - 11:06
Many thanks, Rob. Pleased you thought so;-)
Tina
MistakenMagic | November 29, 2011 - 16:58
A beautiful, heart-warming tale, Tina. You capture the innocence of both childhood and adulthood perfectly. Well done on the cherries! :)
Magic xxx
Silver Spun Sand | November 29, 2011 - 17:04
Very much appreciate your reading this one, Magic and that it 'rang a bell' with you;-)
Thanks, so very much and I hope you are having a good week.
Tina xxx
Cavalcaderl | November 29, 2011 - 17:22
new Silver-Spun-Sand
Well done on the cherries1
A truly delightful poem, child
and dad memories fishing.
Brings back to me,I can't remeber
way back,but Brighton Pier all men cast rods
inot sea with bait,fishing rods had a bell on,
would ring once catch was snared. Not sue if dad there then. At sea. Then I'd have a enamel basin go
pet shop, choose Catfish from pet shop,got on bus water slop everywhere think there was a lid.
Catfish only open his mouth and blow bubbles for air!
hope your well. Big gale here! Scaffolding about to.
julie xx
Silver Spun Sand | November 29, 2011 - 19:26
Many thanks, Julie. It is blowing a gale here too, today.
Better hang on to your hat;-)
Have a good rest of the week.
Tina xx