The Beautiful Game

Cherry

By Silver Spun Sand

Sun, 04 Mar 2012
  • 1000 reads
7 comments
 

Saturday;
Spurs –
White Hart Lane.
My dad,
and me –
new shoes...
all purple dress
and pigtails.
And the sleet
and the drizzle
and the wind
blowing up
a storm.

As I shook
and I shivered,
he hugged me...
wrapped me
in his coat...
warm as toast,
and it smelled
of bonfire-nights
and barbecues
and our dog, Spot,
and home...
Beautiful –
it was.

Certificate U
Poem
Silver Spun Sand Poems
Autobiography

Comments

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on
Thanks, Stan. Yes it is a lovely memory which I cherish, and my daughter has a similar one with her dad;-) Tina

 

Submitted by russiandoll on
This is lovely Tina and has evoked so many memories of my own - thanks and well done. x

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on
Many thanks, russian...Pleased you enjoyed;-) Tina

 

Submitted by Highhat on
made me homesick for a Dad Tina but I got the atmosphere. Like the toast metaphor sounds cosy :) Pia

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on
Thank you, Pia. Sorry I made you 'homesick'. I miss mine too, like crazy. Tina;-)

 

Submitted by tcook on
We used to get taken to Old Trafford or Maine Road (although I was and still am a Spurs fan). You would get passed over the heads of the fans so that you got to the front and five minutes before the final whistle you were passed back. It wouldn't happen today!

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on
You're right there, Tony. Thanks for reading;-) Tina