24 September, 2008 at 13:47 (Uncategorized)

When I was a kid I used to stand, at the kitchen sink with my Dad,
Doing the washing up.
The view beyond the window changed, over the years as my Mum,
Did up the garden.
He stood on the left, his arms up to the elbows in soapy water,
and me, with a tea towel in hand on the right,
being admonished for being too eager to dry,
sopping wet dishes.
Very little changes, the plants in the house and the garden,
had me learning how to barely breathe,
so as to disguise my allergies.
The conversation, whatever interested Dad at that moment,
though he’d encourage me, to ask questions,
if I could think of them.
Where better to discuss quantum physics then,
than over the washing up, a place where all the best conversations are had,
in a house where I must barely breathe,
keeping my allergies silent, unspoken,
Just like home.

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