They spat me out one winters day,
I had no choice, I had no say
so pull a chair up, join me do
and I might write a rhyme or two.
The perfect day sits in old photographs
on mantlepieces and console tables
but it was never really perfect.
Moments of it may have been,
...
I watch my grand-daughter
as she looks up at the sky.
'Tiny aer-o-p'anes' she squeals.
...