In my mind's nose, paraffin fumes
On the playroom air
And meths for lighting the Tilley lamp
And hot rubber urging me to chew
My hottie-bottie, kettle filled.
Old and dusty, suddenly bare,
Lonely: we shall decamp,
To Harrogate, start anew,
Be again our more sophisticated selves.
Others gone, house stilled,
Just mother sweeping crumbs
From the flagged floor,
Taking damp novels from left behind shelves,
Chucking them into the stove.
Whiff of wet paper smouldering
Before she shuts the door.
In my minds nose, orange, cinnamon and clove,
With fishy Copydex glue,
Christmassy activities, crepe paper frilled,
And chains of plain white,
But that’s partly in my mind’s sight,