Category: Unyoung

When Aunty Lesley died — a poem

When Aunty Lesley died of tuberculosis
she was thirty and I was only three.
I have no memories of Aunty Lesley
I have no memories at all from little me
only the mythology of tragic death

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Once we were special — a poem

Once we were special because we were six
six little girls all dressed the same
all funny and noisy and naughty and cute.
Now we are special because we are
six old women all blessed the same

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Once upon a time there were six little girls — a poem

Once upon a time there were six little girls (all my stories start that way) and we all lived happily giggling and squabbling and jumping and wriggling and running wild and running free or hiding away in a hedge or a tree. And our Daddy David was a country vicar and he always said “Be […]

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