<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Showing Promise<\/strong><\/p>\n When my father was sixteen \u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Meg Cox<\/strong> is new to writing poetry but not to reading it – she\u2019s getting on a bit. \u00a0She lives in Herefordshire, alone with her dogs and a garden and a view but she promises not to write about them and would rather live in London.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Showing Promise When my father was sixteen he could throw an egg over the house, run through the rooms and catch the egg unbroken in the back garden. The doors would be open, his mother in the kitchen crying oh George as he dashed and his dad outside nodding but keeping one eye […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2834","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2834","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2834"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2834\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2835,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2834\/revisions\/2835"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2834"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2834"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2834"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nhe could throw an egg over the house,
\nrun through the rooms
\nand catch the egg unbroken
\nin the back garden.
\nThe doors would be open,
\nhis mother in the kitchen
\ncrying oh George<\/em> as he dashed
\nand his dad outside
\nnodding but keeping one eye
\non the cabbages.
\nShowing off<\/em><\/p>\n