The window to the backyard
behind
seated on father’s lap surrounded by
people
chairs and the laminated table
littered
with bottles, glasses, ashtrays;
cigarettes’ silent howls to the moon,
I watch those howls rising
towards the ceiling.
Children and adults
alike litter the room
music, laughter, a joke.
Behind me the stars watch
and signal their stories;
in memory the sky
is sunshine
or clear starshine all the way the centre of the milky way
sometimes rain
but warm and sweet
like coming home to mother’s hug and kiss.
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