In Every Sense

Philip’s reel to reel

King Cole and Reeves bound us

Yesterday’s high tech magnetic tape

Rotating digits counted

 Noted in red-spined book

Labour’s hands finely copperplating

Words for future soirees

My ear to the speaker repeated and sang

Irish melodies and ballads

Baritone and childish soprano

Harmonising life then in music

In country walks

Woodsmoked potatoes

Memorised now in every bonfire

Leaves in a pierced drum

In freshest air and briskest walk

My too small hand in yours

Protected, directed



Loving memories

Gruff twinkled hazel eyes squinting against

Clayed tobacco. Condor moments.

Remembered in my senses

And soul


12 thoughts on “In Every Sense”

    1. Thanks, Chris. I can still smell that pipe tobacco when I close my eyes. Weird. It’s 27 years and those sense memories work a treat. Pity about my short-term memory. It’s taking a real nose-dive.

      Liked by 1 person

  1. Awe sis, felt like crying when you read this to me earlier when I was at yours – now I am! Beautiful, I love it xxxx


      1. How could I have forgotten?! Today is the first day I’ve felt even remotely interested or Christmassy – (B12 has probably helped). Thanks big sis – love you xxxx


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