19th February 2025

 

blue sky

a row of robed priests

giving thanks

© Rachel Green February 2025

the prunes and custard mother made for me

was welcome on a Sunday afternoon

for I had such a sweet tooth, dentistry

came all too often and always too soon.

And though I counted stones to find my fate

I'm sure she knew the rhyme by heart as well

for there was never more plum pits that eight

and thus from any grace at all I fell.

That bloody thief had placed a future bid

upon the I had hoped to make

for never was a painting sold I did

embrace instead my art for artist's sake.

 But though of prunes in all their praise I sang

 My favourite was her Clementine meringue.

© Rachel Green February 2025