Had a very busy weekend. We visited the grandparents and then went for a delicious meal at our friends Jeff and Lisa's on Saturday. Lisa made home-made carrot and coriander soup with homebaked bread, beef stroganoff pasta and brandy-snap basket with vanilla ice-cream, cherries in a brandy sauce, melon balls and bourneville chocolate scrapings - yum. On Sunday we saw the grandparents again and went to watch the Manchester United match at our friends Kevin and Ajs house. Was excited to learn that my friends Claire and Martijn have moved to their very first home (i.e. not rented) and that a short trip to Paris with my friend Shanti is in the offing (there will be no postings over this weekend if it comes off).
All that yummy food put me in mind of a poem I wrote as part of the Morley Writers Festival last year (inspired by a slice of citrus fruit of all things), so for my new followers I thought I would post it again:
Under your skin
The tang of bittersweet memories lie on her tongue
like a secret too painful to share.
The points of the ends rise towards the sky
praying to a Deity that never hears.
Green means new life or mistakes of old
and both mirror distances past.
If you touch it can bleed.
Seep through your fingers and staining,
leaving evocative rivers of absolution
washing away impotent guilt.
Like you it will wither in sunlight,
turn brown in disparate places.
Some that will show and others hidden,
unless you want them to be seen.
It balances precariously on the surface,
not quite flat but curved in on itself.
Shadows leaching away from its centre
blurring at the edges.
You could immerse it and change
its purpose in this life,
in turns sweet or sour or both.
But that would take a decision
and setting it free
from the prison under your skin.