FORK

Culshaw

 

FORK

 

Rust had set in, wobbled the cross handle

you held the dig back from fear of breakage,

just teasing the sun dried earth.

 

A foot push hip heave, snap!

Release of time as the handle gave way,

I stood with his fingerprints.

 

One of the last things your granddad gripped

with strength. it's time to let go move on,

but it never feels that easy.

 

Instead you're thinking of him, in hot weather

breaking his back to find war torn food.

 

  • Author: Culshaw (Offline Offline)
  • Published: December 9th, 2018 14:03
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 17
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Comments1

  • Michael Edwards

    Another gem - and not in the book.

    • Culshaw

      Thanks Michael.....



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