Do not go gentle..wrestling on the inside of Veronica Toppino's extraordinary performative suit. Thanks to Peta Lily and The London College of Fashion for shaking up them bones.

The Daffodils

One of the poems for Dad whose birthday would have been this month.

The Daffodils

When the Daughter returned

From the meeting with the Registrar,

Stone in heart, unbelieving –

The man did not know her father,

Hell bent on putting

The hateful year behind him –

When she returned,

Smile mask in position,

He fixed her with his one good eye and said,

I thought I’d at least make it to the Spring!

Mortified, she lied,

No one said you wouldn’t, Dad.

But the Registrar had said

Dead by Christmas.

In a corner of the front garden,

Always his domain,

The Mother had no interest in that lawless patch

Flanking car and step,

There now began a pushing and swelling

Beneath the frozen earth,

Driving juice green flow against the clock.

And lo!

Three daffodils burst through the January snow,

Loyal against all odds,

Sounding the trumpet for Dennis

Who put the old behind him

Against all odds

In a miracle of Spring.

up against a brick wall

Just testing new blog! What a joke!!