Shiny Yellow Stockings

Man of glass
fractured
you stood
you sat
you smiled
you cried

No longer, in residence anyone of your name
remains.
Spirals of memories –
children’s games
fishing boats trawl waters deep
dream catchers with their secrets to keep
flickering images of black and white
reliving fragments of others acceptance.

Mother dear you’ve stitched that piece before
I know, you knew, that one day
someone would come knocking on our door
think you can wear that blanket
of ignorance for always, strip off that outer
coat of varnish –
scrub away the tarnished debris
You should have been an actress
encore after encore
with everyone screaming more
more, more – but not me!

In shiny yellow stocking, I held
my step father’s hand
in my shiny yellow stocking I
simply – did – not – understand.

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