17/08/2025
A new poem
"76"
The days stretched ahead of us
A lifetime in one hot lazy summer
Inside, dust motes sparkling in the hazy sun
Outside, tarmac melting like glue
And mud crackling into crazy paving
My skin, burnt to a crisp, peeling
To expose new smooth pink skin
In patches, like a giraffe
All gangly arms and legs.
They arrived in an unthreatening swarm
A red mist that tickled and crawled
Gathering in corners of windows frames
Landing in our fruity drinks and ice creams
Hiding in the creases of our summer dresses
Before taking off like tiny spotted Chinooks.
I was entranced by the magical beauty
As they wended their way across
The precarious landscape of my
Scrawny 6 year old arms
Objecting to the continuous placement of
Obstacles in the shape of my fingers,
Indignantly rattling their wings.
Abandoning the trek in
Favour of blue endless sky
I wanted to keep them.
To protect and care for them
I created a palace made of glass,
With a roof of pierced metal
Filled it with grass and leaves
A tropical paradise
The Hot sweltering sun glinting in prisms
As I watched their distorted shapes
Scurry between foliage
Through the curves of the jam jar
Soon it was a metropolis
Of ladybird upon ladybird
As they moved as one,
A glorious undulating wave
Of red and green
Two doors down,
Mr Brocklesby sat on his deck chair.
Head covered with a newspaper
Wrinkled face turned sunward
Rolled up trouser legs, white vest
Revealing brown speckled arms
And sunburnt shoulders.
He fought a war in the jungle,
My mum said. The jungle!
Imagine all the creepy crawlies
He must have seen,
When he was fighting
Lions and tigers with his bare hands
I approached him shyly with my
Jar of beloved captives,
Clamouring towards the air holes
Hoping to impress him with my efforts
Of crude conservation.
He smiled kindly. “What’s that you have there?”
I proffered it eagerly awaiting praise for my good deeds
Taking it gently in his hands,
A sad smile glanced over his lips,
As he opened the lid and let them all fly free
I hated him! Oh how I hated him!
I sobbed wretched and heaving
Into my mums arms
She angry at his heartlessness
For making her little girl cry
“She wasn’t doing any harm!”
I never forgave him,
Even after he was long gone.
Now I watch the ladybird
Walking across the contours of my creased palm
Navigating my spread fingers,
Hesitating at my roughened knuckles and fingernails
Before lowering its carriage,
Raising its wings into position
And then flying away, free
A tiny red speck against the summer sky
Now I understand.
And I forgive him.
©andiecropperarts2025
