Love of the Old

Love of the Old

When I was doing the washing up

it struck me that my wife retained

an affection for plates with faded

designs from thirty-five years ago,

a plastic spoon worn half away

from stirring sauces in hot pans,

a carving knife with a broken handle.

I found it touching she displayed

an attachment to familiar objects,

that had seen far better days

and could reasonably be discarded.

And then, of course, there’s me...

Tony Dawson, March 2024