Recollections of Peek FreansA Poem by Ken e BujoldThey say I have her eyes, though I was born before she went blind, so how I am meant to read this is questionable. But what I remember is how impossible it was to evade her ears -- the way she perched, leaned in tune to the air, every little shift of restlessness caught before I could slip the cane’s crook as if she knew my thoughts, the urge to sneak another Peek Frean off the come-hither plate always to the right of that wary elbow. Now, should the painting appear too dark, unkind, it is just time’s relentless rub of memories … a child’s haste to fill his pockets … though they say I have her eyes, I can’t recall where I buried them. All I have to remember of her is how much I wanted to heist a Peek Frean before getting away clean. Ken e Bujold
© 2023 Ken e BujoldReviews
|
Stats
139 Views
7 Reviews Added on June 17, 2023 Last Updated on June 17, 2023 AuthorKen e BujoldSomewhere in Ontario, CanadaAboutWriters write, it's what we do. Fish swim, woodpeckers peck... writers scribble (inside and outside the lines). more..Writing
Related WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
|