Phrases taken from Chris's email last week, and done over a la Larkin
1950s... Apols to Chris... From Max
The Audit
(for Chris Jones)
The old family house to be sold at last,
oh, the emptying of cupboards and drawers!
Some hadnıt been looked in since Mother,
widowed, having filed her last tax return,
joined their Father in the family grave.
They say Keep old cheque books, in case
suspicion against your family rise
in the Tax Office, and they audit you.
The country must be deep in old receipts.
So it fell to him, to sift old papers,
admire the cheapness of things then (yet
money was much scarcer then). And love?
Letters turned up, informal notes
mostly, some carefully penned. Pages
posted from son to parents, in his
childish hand, theyıd kept, from love of course.
Before phoning had displaced the post,
every year meant more envelopes,
greeting cards, snaps with or without names.
None of these seemed easily disposed of.
Stow them from sight, one day theyıd make
a scrapbook. The next generation
might well not care, hating hoarding,
but just one, grateful, may wonder...
We knew they loved us, Mum and Dad,
but now, these words of endearment,
never uttered in our hearing, prove it.
Hoarded letters, cards, and jottings
sing still of their own mutual love.ı
Heıd been told: to prevent crying,
push your tongue hard up into your mouth,
stare into the middle distance. He did.
|