Meeting the family, 1937
These are sunny days. They sit arranged
around the teacups, teapot centre,
cakes to eat in this glade of leaves and glitter;
she wants her fairy-friends to show up
but her visitor’s here, laughing with her brothers.
Her shoes shine white as bone china under the table,
small grass stains on one heel. Father’s absent,
feeding his chickens, but her favourite dog
sits up next to her, eying the sandwiches.
I know he likes me, but how much?
she writes on the flysheet of her latest
Walter Scott, in shorthand.
Colin Crewdson lives in Devon, tends his garden and writes when not fending off pests and other work. His poems have been published in several other magazines including The Journal, The Open Mouse, Anima and The High Window.