I love a bit of poetry. One of the Book Club members asked if I’d like to join the Poetry Group? I said ‘Yes’. It turns out the group consists of the organiser, she who invited me to join, one of the local vicars and me. Just the three of us.
Actually, it’s quite nice because, although I didn’t know it beforehand, you take one of the poems ‘wot you have written’ and offer it up for critique. Hmm, that bit is scary.
Anyway, the upshot is that, because it’s 2026 and one hundred years after me Mum and the Queen were born, I thought I’d share the recently critiqued, but not recently written poem. As you will see, it was written in hope and expectation……
Keeping Going
Here's a letter for you.
It's a good one, I can tell.
The envelope is cream vellum,
The address is hand-written,
And there's a proper,
Queen Elizabeth postage stamp.
And see, a proper post-mark too.
A smile of pleasure on her face,
Then curiosity.
Who can it be from?
I don't recognise the hand-writing.
She takes the treasured letter.
She holds it reverently.
And, lifting her glasses to see,
She asks, "Is it really for me?"
It is. It is. Look, see.
She peers at the postmark -
It's London - that's strange -
I don't know anyone in London.
The friends I knew there
Are all dead, you see.
I wonder who it can from?
And who would be writing to me?
She turns it over
And sniffs it.
She turns it again and shakes it.
She bends it,
And peers again at the post mark.
London? Can it really be for me?
It is. It is. Look, see.
There's your name, your address.
Look, look, see?
Oh, yes! It's my address!
Oh yes! It's my name!
But I don't know anyone in London.
The friends I knew there
Are all dead, you see.
Open it, Mum - gently said -
Let's look, let's see.
A rustle behind her,
And the carer passes a knife.
To open it, Mum - so gently said,
Let's look, let's see.
But it's not my birthday!
It is, Mum, it is.
Look, see.
But who's it from?
I don't know anyone in London
Except the Queen,
Who's the same age as me.
She's sent you a card, Mum.
Look, look, see.
It's from the Queen,
To wish you a happy birthday.
Oh, how nice! The poor old duck,
She's getting on a bit isn't she?
Yes, Mum - smilingly said,
She's 100 - just like thee.