I can close my eyes

& see them still

the aunts

aged & mysterious

each different

but the same

with their homes

smelling so different than mine

this one of cats

that one of pipe smoke

from the uncle who was never there

& of course my fave

scents of cinnamon & buns

cakes with sultanas

icing on top

all needing to be eaten

they dressed in similar

yet never quite alike

long dresses of flowers

close to the ankle

soft big bosomed blouses

hiding hankies


& treats for stray dogs

because there was no room

in their big black leather bags

these held strange bottles

difficult papers that could make them sob

when they got together

& never finished knitting

& if I was lucky

christmas or birthdays

some never quite fitting jumper

or balaclava to ward off the winter

thankfully I was not there

to see them go

off travelling

which always had their approval

if they got postcards or letters

visits when I was home

for drinks



so now all I can do

is visit their stones

close my eyes

& think of cinnamon

Ill fitting wool

& soft bosoms with hugs

One thought on “I can close my eyes

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