Images Poem by Adrian Taheny

Saturday morning sleep of a schoolboy
Broken by the regular ringing of
asses and carts and the two churns
rattling together filled with
the fruits of a small farmer’s labours.


Little comfort the regular visit to the
Creamery and the return journey laden
down with twenty four pounds of butter
for sale in our local shop, with the paper
and an exchange of gossip, daily.


Dinner always at one and the shop open
again at two or before if the van arrived
Great plates of meat or fish, smoked haddock
on a Friday, and my Mother’s small appetite
ensuring extra helpings, as we cleared our plates.


Football in the park at five and everyone came.
A rainbow of colours, with teams known only
to the regulars, and no endgame. Next point wins!
Then in darkness over the Bat protected bridge
to an incredible welcome and straight to bed!


How the memory remains and how revered.
The best years of your life and you did not
believe these ancient bards. Too old. Them. You,
I will do as I please when I am older, but now my
boys play into the dark and I don't understand!