This kind of day years ago
we’d break out Monopoly
cheap wine and chips
and later, gentled with booze,
we might make soup together
while the kids told silly stories
the tantrums over Whitehall ̶
and all your hotels – washed away
in the bedtime bath.
I wonder, writing this,
whether you hear set-in rain
and think of those Monopoly afternoons,
that always ended in our daughter’s tears.
We, all of us, live with different people now.
The dog’s the only constant –
and she sleeps through most day
paws scurrying her through dream paddocks.
Today I felt the same sad I felt back then,
when everythingfell slowly apart
until we stretchedout on the loungeroom floor,
arguing over who got the top hat
who the shoe and you looked over their heads
at me and threw the dice.
Catherine Bateson, 2013.
I would say that summer is pretty well over in Melbourne - of course, this being Melbourne, we can still be surprised! I was trying to avoid a 'winter is coming' kind of joke - there - I've done it for you. Relieved? Warm yourself on some poetic fire over at the Tuesday Poem Hub - where you can witness the third blog birthday communal poem being written. From the hub, you can skive off and find other poems - cosy, fired-up, and flaming!