Polishing

The rain batters the shed roof

we sit in silence while we polish our shoes ready

Dad’s applied the polish to both pairs.

The silence broken by questions

questions I did not want to answer

this is a moment, one to remember in years to come

I love this moment as we shine

the shoes glisten now, we head back to the house

waiting together in more, but comfortable, silence.

The time is 12.15 it was time to honour the dead

our highly polished shoes a fitting tribute to

a gentleman who was always immaculate

inside and out. Dad’s brother.

I turned to writing for therapy after a long period of ill-health. I have just returned to work. I am a researcher, writer, and Mental Health Advocate.

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