I remember my father. Remember being carried high on his shoulders when he was walking into town. I remember that I was scared. I had never been carried on shoulders before. Was there a bus strike or no money for the fare? That I don’t remember. I remember my father sitting in a chair, a passenger on a bus or tram, as I collected his fare and gave him a ticket. He drove trams once and then later he cleaned them. I remember my father. Remember sitting on his knee looking at Rupert Bear books. I knew the stories by heart so people thought I could read and were very impressed. But I could only remember. I remember my father. I don’t need photographs to jog my memory, which is just as well since there are none, None of him whole, anyway, just one of his legs in loose grey trousers, sitting by me as I planted seeds in my first garden. *First published in Pilcrow and Dagger, November 2015
About the Poet:
Lynn White lives in north Wales. Her work is influenced by issues of social justice and events, places and people she has known or imagined. She is especially interested in exploring the boundaries of dream, fantasy and reality. She was shortlisted in the Theatre Cloud ‘War Poetry for Today’ competition and has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and a Rhysling Award. Her poetry has appeared in many publications including: Apogee, Firewords, Capsule Stories, Light Journal and So It Goes.