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Wind-blonde baby girl to the apple swing green teen Caught in a photoclock
Ticking between sepia prints and sun-bathed transparencies that Step time in thirty-six frames.
To me she is always a sister two steps higher
One plait longer, a leather satchel, bugger Brahms and beret An Energen rush, pram-push further on
Umpteen classes of little Kitties and Dickens And thousands of well-tramped
Treks and paintings, poems and friends.
Seventy steps forward toward a
Superwoman set in these chalk downs of Kent Past the burrow of Harrow
To West Peckham where her spring chicks gather and grow like daffs.
April 21, 2015