Wednesday, 4 August 2010


My father was rather an average man,
My mother another housewife,
My son no more special than anyone else’s,
My lovers no better than others.
My sister and I were indifferent kids,
My pets a collection of hound dogs,
My toys were deployed by an army of stores,
My interests as varied as any.
My house was encased by a neighbourhood’s mass,
My street a discreet terraced map grid,
My town was surrounded by fancier hamlets,
My language a mixture of accents.

My dad rose above the constraints of his day,
My mum laboured hard to support him,
My boy is the joy of the world in a child,
My woman is someone of stature.
My childhood was studded with magical gems,
My animals loved more than measure,
My action men vented a singular mind,
My hobbies filled lobbies of splendour.
My home was the Rome to where all my roads led,
My avenue proof of my people,
My city the centre of my universe,
My words the preserve of the world.

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