In a little flat in a little town
my younger self sat down for a cuppa
three generations around a table
silence breaks as the chairs meet each other.
After a while you leaned in towards me
your west end accent whispered carefully
"I'm ever so sorry, what is your name?"
Your eyes weary, studying me softly.
I still remember the vanilla sponge
the way the cup and saucer were set out
the spoon paused, as you saw my grandmother
Guessing correctly, but I saw the doubt.
We're twenty five years down this long hard road
your namesake 'remembers what's important'
sea blue eyes and west end accents mirror
as I wait for the day he asks my name.
Charlie Ann Alford 