Nursery Poem by Ian Bowen

My third eldest sister Susan
still sells sea shells from her
small shop in a sea side town;
where fishermen waft by
in yellow, thigh-high leggins.

Jack, my second eldest brother
constantly places his girating thumb
into the financial pies of commerce
and when he finds a real plum deal
he is the first to pat himself on the back.

Tom, my youngest brother
sings for his supper
in the glittering halls
of Vegas and beyond.

Me!
Well, I now live in a cupboard.
Much better than living in
an overcrowded shoe...

my Mother not knowing what to do.