Floods and Snow

It's been an exciting time! First I had a second story published in 'Yours Fiction Special' Short Story quarterly, on Thursday 21st January 2021 and Manchester has been drenched and snowed on in the days since by storm Christoph. The flooded tennis courts in Fletcher Moss, Disbury had ducks swimming on them and today, after the deluges, we have more snow. Unusual for Manchester on both counts, where the Mersey levels have never been known to reach such heights, even though there are occasional flood plain inundations. It seemed a very good time to settle in for some publishing success celebration, so I did!

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Two teddies are now

Both in my keeping,

Gifts to toddler grandchildren, us.

When new, Bruin was purple, larger,

With a deep growl.

My brother's.

Teddy was smaller, fawn,

Mine.

He lost his growl after an unfortunate fall

And a sink bath.

I loved Teddy with a depth which included emotional guilt.

I was jealous because Bruin was bigger and purple

And my own ted must never know of that.

I was the oldest but the girl.

Perhaps that played into who got which bear.

Bruin is no longer purple,

Faded after decades on my brother's windowsills,

At home and in his flat.

For a few years now, both have looked down from

The high shelf beside my daughter's childhood raised bed.

They leaned together, slightly forward,

As if wanting to come down.

I climbed up to get them the other day and soon saw why.

Both lambswool, moths have pecked their back legs into small

bald patches.

It's been a poignant time as my mother has lately died too.

I felt I had let them down, the two teds,

Neglected while cherished still.

I've dusted them off and put them on the coverlet

Of the single bed below,

Where they seem more contented, two old men together.

Better now, their worn little faces seem to say.