Ian Bowen

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.

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

my Mother not knowing what to do.

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Poem Submitted: Monday, February 8, 2010

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