Flashbacks

When I was two my Mum paraded me along the canal
Where the emerald-headed mallards gossiped
Amongst the bullrushes.
Seeing that my rag doll was dirty I threw her into the water.
It was my mum’s hysterics that drew in a passing fisherman
Who kindly retrieved Bess; the ducks were pinching her for bread.

When I was five my Grandpa showed me the secret garden.
Hand in hand we climbed over the mountains of the rockery to visit
His gallant sunflowers. I wondered if I could ever be as tall as them.
But contented myself in making daisy chains to dress for the Occasion. I picked dandelions for Gran, she kept them in a pink glass On the sill.

When I was nine I was lead down white hospital corridors,
Concerned by the strange smell. Nurses past like silent angels
And people in dressing gowns shuffled like ghosts. I found Mum and Dad, Their faces gripped with tired shadows and my baby sister packaged in a pink blanket, so wrinkled I was afraid to touch her.

When I was sixteen I arrived in a bustling school hall
That day in August. Sun tumbled from the high windows
Giving halos to some. I was handed my snow white envelope.
It shivered in my hand then unfolded like wings to reveal
My first rave review. Even my Dad cried.