SORTING BOYS FROM MEN.A Poem by Terry CollettA VISITATION AT CHRISTMAS TIME.
It was near Christmas time
and you went along to see old Pete who lived alone in a two up two down house not far from where you lived he was about 96 or so and still went to mass each day and did the collection at mass on Sundays dressed in his best suit and tie you knocked on his door and after a while he opened the door come in he said and you followed him into the main room where he had a fire going and sat in an old armchair sit down he said so you sat on a chair beside him there was a cat on the mat in front of the fireplace sleeping want a whisky? sure you said ( you used to drink back then) the bottle's in the sideboard over there there's a glass in the kitchen so you went to the kitchen and took a glass from the draining board and took the bottle out of the sideboard pour yourself a drink he said what about you? you asked can't drink I'm on too many pills ok you said and poured a couple of fingers worth more than that he said what are you some kind of woman? so you poured half the glass and put the bottle on the small table beside you Pete sipped his milky tea well here's to Christmas he said and raised his mug of tea you raised your glass and said here's to you and you sipped your drinks he talked of his wife who had died some years before he spoke of his son (without much affection) and his grandson whom he seemed to speak well of and his grandson's wife who he said was quite pretty but not as beautiful as my wife Pete said she was one in a million he went quiet he sipped his tea and you sipped your whisky he talked about his master builder days when he worked long hours and over six days and saved money where and when he could he became silent my son is always on the want he knows I have money and he is always asking for this and that he drained his mug of tea you drained your glass of whisky want another? he asked I must be going you said have another first he said so you poured more whisky into the glass ( half a glass again he having insisted) and he talked of the women he knew and how he teased them and flirted with them and made them laugh you know those old dears like to be flirted with it makes them feel young again he said when they laugh you can see the light flash in their old grey eyes and their dead dugs tremble with memories and he laughed and drank from a bottle of mineral water by his armchair he sat gazing into the fire you sat draining the whisky from the glass the room smelt of cooking meat and wet cat and you said look Pete I best go the wife will wonder where I've gone OK he said and so you washed the glass in the sink and put the bottle away in the sideboard and patted his shoulder see you around in church he said sure you replied and walked swaying up the road you'd only went to Pete's to wish him well and to deliver a card and framed picture of a female saint he liked but the whisky had been a bonus a kind of THANK YOU for being a friend to an old man it was the sort of gift you liked back then the whisky kind sorting the boys from men. © 2013 Terry Collett |
StatsAuthorTerry CollettUnited KingdomAboutTerry Collett has been writing since 1971 and published on and off since 1972. He has written poems, plays, and short stories. He is married with eight children and eight grandchildren. on January 27t.. more..Writing
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