The questions of the World


still smell the scents of
machine oil and leather; you
bent atop your work and i
somewhere across the place,

hide and seek between
the shelves,
dusting greasy machines
with my sleeve, jumping
up and down the aisles on
just one leg and each time
i’d come round the corner i
would run my fingers through
your hair and weigh how far
you got – Talking you up
and down the seams you
stitched and ask
the questions of the World
and you would smile, take
them with brawny hands
and sew them carefully into
your work until they faded
and you’d switch off the light,
take my hand and lead me
all the way home.

i had no uncle or dad like him but an aunt and spent hours in the cow stable, talking her into deafness…smiles..and today when i open a bottle of milk, i still find some of my questions swimming there….
Today at One Stop Poetry, Chris Galford spotlights the work of photographer Rob Hanson. The above image is shot by Rob and this poem is my response to the picture prompt…check it out, grab your pen and join us..