Dreams
As we walked in
Our party slowed to let her go ahead
Catching breath at stumbles in her step
Before the small hands neared the ground
We swooped, and caught her so she would not cry.
Tiny feet took time to shuffle
To the chair; then when we sat she would not choose
Some food, but scribbled crayon flowers.
The teapot sat before me,
Silver steaming gently as it cooled.
A small hand reached and hovered
Near the handle; with a gasp
I snatched and reached it first.
A lucky swipe left my hand striped with red,
But her quite safe. I smiled and heard her laugh.
Two years had taught no caution.
We turned at jangling bells.
Signalling arrival, holding on too long.
The door kept wide by a waitress
With pity for a smile to let the old man through.
We stared as that man leant upon the frame
As we were leant on by the child.
A whisper to the waitress,
Who flinched from him as he inclined to speak.
Ninety today, we were informed.
They flocked around him, cooing.
As though he could not hear their words,
Or if he could, would not reply.
They brought him cake, told him he need not pay.
“Ninety years? Well aren’t you getting on!”
They crooned, as if his mind had ceased
Or wrinkles replaced shame. A bright balloon
Nodded by his sparse whit hair.
I stirred my tea in silent thought.
Looking from the old man to the girl.
Three meters, eight decades and eight years
Were between them, but dependants both.
Does only rapid speech gain us respect?
Or do we lose that right with legs that shake?
Dreams of future fell in futile heaps
With that idea; not love nor fame
Will make the fare one way glory.
My little cousin laughed and grabbed the tea.
Coirle FMB Magee 11D