Sunday, 29 September 2013

Our eyes met across a crowded room.

My five year old eyes,
dripped with disappointment.
Her eyes were four hundred
and fifty years old.
She had seen it all before;
she had no expectation.
Whereas I, even in my vast five
year experience
somehow expected more.

Our enigmatic expressions 
 mirrored each other.
Even now, I remember so well,
the great expectation, 
 falling far short.
Cloaked in my innocent's wealth of
knowledge, I felt cheated.

The stay in Paris was the final leg of our holiday in France.
Dad and I went off sight-seeing.  Doris staying back at the hotel to sleep; headaches were a constant in her life.  Even then as a precocious child I thought, what a waste to come to Paris and be not well enough to explore.  

My mother then barely thirty.  Her life slipping by, with just another eighteen years to go.

Doris and Linda returning home from France

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