Seven Fishes in a Pond

We had it all, then;
‘the world – our oyster’.
At the time, though –
swept along in the tide
I don’t think you and I
even noticed.

Those fortnights
in Skegness; the caravan
we’d rent that leaked...
How, each July, we said
we’d go somewhere
better next year, yet
could never afford it.

Combing the sands
and the mud-flats,
searching for razor-fish
and crabs. The seaweed
went pop whenever
you squeezed it.
Forking out
for donkey rides,
they just had to have...

those big-dipper rides
that turned your face
green...Scrubbing tar
at bath-time
from tiny feet....

Extolling the delights
of jellied eels and whelks,
to squeals of disgust
as we’d watch you tuck in
like they were going
out of style.

It was what we were,
way back then, made
it, oh so precious.
A boy,and a girl,
a mum and a dad,
and seven goldfish
in a pond.