Oblong round Table

~

on the first Thursday of each month

it’s like playtime used to be as

we gather for coffee and old banter,

all those that can make it that is

except those with a letter from 

their mothers’ if any are still alive,

~

we’re all into our seventh decade 

memories like elephants and sundry

medications rattling in our pockets,

we have all known each other since 

those innocent distant years 

at infants’ school aged four or five,

~

‘remember whens’ are passed around

with the biscuits and frowning brows

turn into creased smiles as the mists

shrouding memories begin to clear,

~

we have become a round table of 

experts on the dark arts of diabetes

pacemakers heart valves Parkinson’s

disease and delicate matters of

mens’ nether regions,

~

old girlfriends and first crushes 

as usual gather opposite, girlish pigtails

now trimmed to multicoloured perms

a walking stick or two, to poke us

cheeky blokes into line,

~

even on the coldest of days

there is a warmth rising from this 

class of young ‘uns, who have somehow, 

imperceptibly faded to grey 

*

© Graham R Sherwood 06/24