The waving grass is green, the sun, a hot jewel

never content with its heat, blazes incessantly.


Swallows skim, dip, flit back and forth,

cabbage butterflies float on the breeze,

amidst the yellow open mouthed daffodils

the cottage lies, I am a child again.  


At the kitchen table, which stands on worn linoleum

they cannot afford to replace, Grandma sits,

her hands gritty like sandpaper

polishes the brass until it gleams, immaculate.


Within the parlour, where the sunlight never falls,

hunched forward in his rocking chair, Granddad reads

from time to time, the great Bible open on his knee,

thanking God for yet another day.


A start, I awake, a slight wind lifts the curtain

as if touched  by an angel’s unfolding wings,

time, with its impatient hands

has snatched away the picture from before my eyes.


All, all is changed, yet, it cannot be,

now is the dream, then, the reality.


‘Snapshot’ was highly commended in the Sentinel Literary Quarterly Poetry Competition, April 2012


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