Dad's birthday.
He'd have a massive smile now
but he's cremated.
© Rachel Green August 2025
The memory of a sixties youth
when genitals decreed a child's life
to make my parents laugh with gleeful truth
in ignorance of future adult strife.
The TV shows as family we enjoyed
depicting deeds of other-gendered souls
who, with wit and humour, subtly employed
the concept of cross-dressing to these proles.
With practice, soon was I able to dress
in socially more feminine attire;
for this I thank the drag queens, I confess,
that lit the fuse of my transgender fire.
Sir Michael Crawford, I bless thee now aloud
with Barry Humphries and the Python crowd.
© Rachel Green August 2025
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