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