These beautiful strangers who will give me my name ...

We walked past McDonalds on our way to St Faiths - 

It's a bit fresh my dad said - but not what I'd call cold - there's no ice and snow on the ground - 

He plucked at his thin coat - 

There were no pale diners inside McDonalds - 

There was a winter my dad said - when there was snow to the end  of March - 

That was 1947 I said - 

I remembered seeing the newsreels of snowbound towns -

Blizzards swept over iron hills - 

The sea froze my dad said - 

My mum and dad were courting in 1947 - 

They were very young - 

There are photographs in an album which show them together - 

There they are, these beautiful strangers who will give me my name - 

09.20

Sunday 27 March 2016

Havant