Cortege

two beautiful white horses

with white feather plumes

pull a white hearse.

for just a moment I expected to see Snow White in her glass casket,

instead there is a simple wicker coffin.

three limousines follow.

lemon meringue pie

tart and sweet

crisp and soft

warm and delicious

all gone

mended puncture

the distant approach of a peculiar man

wheeling two bicycles

lifts my damp and weary spirits

snails

we step out into the evening rain

and have to tiptoe around dozens of tiny yellow snails

scattered across the pavement like fallen leaves

the sea

I look up from my book to find the sea outside the train window

nondescript dull grey apart from the tiny sparkles

where the sunshine breaks through the thick cloud cover

at mum and dad's

morning tea
weak and sweet
in a blue and white willow patterned
cup and saucer

travelling home

apart from two bedraggled and unpruned rose bushes

the long neglected platform is more like a summer meadow

scattered with long grasses and tiny red and yellow wildflowers

slug

a huge brown slug stretches his head up

mottled skin glistening

its tentacles protruding

searching the air

it is faintly disgusting

and yet

curiously

elegant

cat

siamese, beautiful, delicate cream with black tips

incongruous in the scruffy garden

nuzzles around my ankles

and stretches languorously at my feet

daughter again

giggling over purchases

and sharing chocolate

she still lets me link arms

as we walk along

thunder

thunder reverberates across the sky

threatening

but keeping its distance

until the sudden cloudburst

catches me unawares

headache

skulking in the background,

ominously,

lurking behind my eyes,

stealing in,

niggling,

then nagging,

persistent,

ensconced,

settling in for the duration.