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
Loved
Simple
Loving memories
Gruff twinkled hazel eyes squinting against
Clayed tobacco. Condor moments.
Remembered in my senses
And soul
scottishmomus 
‘Condor moments’! A lovely slice of nostalgic thought – full of sentiment without being overly sentimental. Well written.
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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.
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Sorry, what did you say!?!
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😉
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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
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These last two (shree!) weeks are always a bit shitty, Veronica. Now, we do Christmas. Onwards doll.x
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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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We forget till after the fact, V. Don’t really fully realise the effect till the days are past. Same every year. You’d think we’d remember and take account of it. Love you too.x
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and with the memories, you soar – just beautiful
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Thank you kindly, Paul.
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What a lovely way to scribe your childhood memories. Brings back some of my own.
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Many thanks, Susan. Most of my memories of my dad seem to revolve around scents and sound. Fond memories.
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