Gone

That Generation is Gone

Dad scraping toast and yelling that I'd miss the bus
Charlie with his cap at a jaunty angle
Mum laughing till she could hardly stand
Winnie on the riverbank watching the boats go by.

Dad with black eyes in a lard-coloured carcass
Charlie succumbing to death like a drowning man
Mum remembering the bluebell wood of long ago
Winnie sucking tea through a straw.

All gone. All gone.
That generation is gone.
All of their dreaming.
All of their words.
All gone.
All gone.

Photo - The lighthouse at Spurn Point.