The Story You Forgot to Save

 by R V Graves

 

You were so frail I thought I might lose you to the pale grey veil.

A story I couldn't save from the indifferent, beckoning grave

Though safe in the car you sat compliant as the condemned must (like chimney­sweepers, coming to dust).

 

The town reeled around us.

I wheeled us round the town,

We drove up, we drove down, around and around a blowsy, frowsy lousy stretch of

ground.

 

Though it was our home town, the place we knew.

The place where I grew up, and sometimes down.

 

You were so small by then,

I remembered when from egg to ten you were our Mother-Hen

A goliath, a giant, a Boadicea.

You did, and were, all things that made our small world work

All we could see; all we could ever hear.

 

Now I had to shoulder the mantle of your diminishing frame

Had to make decisions, decisions in your name

Take the man's role, the son's, be sharp and brave,

Whatever the toll it took, just so long as someone's able to save something.

 

Outside the car,

The blowsy, frowsy town swung round.

You noticed, you made remark.

 

I hope it was nice for you, a little trip around your home ground.

The story you never saved.

 

©2008 R V Graves