Angel Of The North
I raise tired eyes to encroaching dusk sky
Above Lincoln’s rail station trackside.
Golden tracks parallel thoughts of home;
Both his and mine.
Father relatively home at last in a home.
Father-Christmas emblazoned tee-shirt
Protects eighty-six years of dignity, pride
In his only great grand-daughter.
Evie stands four and a half years ’proud,
Auburn curls halo red-cheeked excitement,
She grips his mobility-scooter handlebars,
Granddad beeps at corners, Evie hoots a warning,
Spinning around the top floor,
Avoiding a corridor of closed doors.
A hushed silence broken by odd bells.
I do not ask for whom they toll.
We are cast both bell and striker,
Turn and turn about; in pealing melodies.
Presently I lift my camera to capture,
Freeze a magnificent coral-pink angel as it hovers,
Wings raised to the heavens,
Piercing a gunshot-blue sky
And all my blank grey prejudices.
Copyright: Susan Flower 2014
I raise tired eyes to encroaching dusk sky
Above Lincoln’s rail station trackside.
Golden tracks parallel thoughts of home;
Both his and mine.
Father relatively home at last in a home.
Father-Christmas emblazoned tee-shirt
Protects eighty-six years of dignity, pride
In his only great grand-daughter.
Evie stands four and a half years ’proud,
Auburn curls halo red-cheeked excitement,
She grips his mobility-scooter handlebars,
Granddad beeps at corners, Evie hoots a warning,
Spinning around the top floor,
Avoiding a corridor of closed doors.
A hushed silence broken by odd bells.
I do not ask for whom they toll.
We are cast both bell and striker,
Turn and turn about; in pealing melodies.
Presently I lift my camera to capture,
Freeze a magnificent coral-pink angel as it hovers,
Wings raised to the heavens,
Piercing a gunshot-blue sky
And all my blank grey prejudices.
Copyright: Susan Flower 2014
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