morning sun
stepping on my hair
wakeful dog
© Rachel Green August 2022
one room in my father's house
was never needed and never used
except, like the front door,
for weddings and funerals
(and there was never a wedding.)
It held the plastic three-piece suite;
the Woolworth's bureau and
Mum's Singer sewing machine
in its wood and iron trestle.
Three shelves of her Mills and Boon
which I read one after the other,
trying to connect with the woman
I never got to meet as an adult.
© Rachel Green August 2022
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