When my mum had gone to bed, I looked inside the wallet -
She'd been opening and closing it all afternoon -
She'd fallen asleep on the settee, clasping the worn scrap of leather to her chest -
Now she lay in her dreams, under sheets washed clean this morning -
My dad had given up watching Morse -
Soon he'd totter up the stairs -
The two of them were becoming strangers to me -
They were figures made up of shards of memory -
Every so often, I'd see them as they were -
Then, before my eyes, they'd turn into strangers once more, each one weirdly familiar, yet different -
I opened the wallet -
There was my mum, with me and my brother beside her -
We're different people, too -
When she was young, my Aunty Sylvie thought my mum looked like a film star -
18.30
Sunday 7 January 2018
Staunton Road
Havant
Hampshire