Where's WallyWhere's Wally and his girlfriend walk along the beach,
obscuring my view, I want to take a picture and
his striped jumper is not part of the terrain that I want.
A man in a blue shirt tries to obscure himself in the rocks,
he ruins the rocks, so I have to leave that corner too.
There is a halo around the sun, I filter the lens with
my sunglasses but halo's are hard to find, they so often slip.
Young children shriek as they run into the sea,
I remember being that young, I can recall being so blue
with the cold but so exhilarated and my limbs were strong.
My mother I think had an old police whistle but perhaps
I am mistaking her for Esther or Eva, hard to remember now.
My mother had dark hair and green eyes, she was flawless then,
I was only small and I would weave her hair into tiny braids.
For a long time, the scent of her stayed with me, a memory jog.
The scent now has become too ethereal and I am not sure
too many years, too many other scents, too many losses.
Where's Wally and his girlfriend stride across the beach,
a pop up cartoon caricature, I could forgive him perhaps
but why wear a striped shirt, I used to sing 'Where's Wally'
to my boys without really knowing what it was about.
I used to have 'Scooby Doo' on my ringtone,
now I have some generic noise which I don't recognise
and never pick up calls, or answer messages, I have become elusive
exclusive, I screen who I wish to speak to,
I filter like the light on a lens, later I shall crop
and I wonder if you will spot Where's Wally and his girlfriend.
Poetry by Elle
Read 492 times
Written on 2015-03-07 at 18:29
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