This poem was published in Mc Dowell M. (Ed.) 2011. Other People Other Worlds. Belconnen: Scribbler's, page 98.
We stepped down from the bus, and my partner
said hello to a handsome young man
with a face that looked vaguely familiar
as my partner called him by name.
And so I was reintroduced to
this teenager with the backpack
crammed with library books for his assignments
as I started remembering back
to the time when this youth was a baby
before years became months became hours,
when we walked our young dog every morning
admiring the houses and flowers
and the father would carry the baby
with the black-haired mum running behind
still packing the bag with the bottles
and ticking off things in her mind.
Time passed; the dog aged and got stiffer
and her muzzle was covered with frost.
She walked much more slowly beside us;
roads had to be carefully crossed.
Sometimes when approaching the lane way
with the winter air sharp as a knife
we'd see the child, holding the hand of
the man, and his beautiful wife
still running behind on stilettos
with the bag stuffed with things for the creche.
Soon the small boy could carry his school bag,
mum, her purse; dad was left with his case.
The faithful dog sickened and left us,
we lost sight of the family, and years
became months, became hours became minutes.
We thought that they'd all disappeared.
Then only today at the bus stop
was the tall, handsome youth with the pack
who will soon begin medical studies
and I found myself harkening back
to those mornings that time changed so quickly
and the images that still remain
as my partner remembered the family
and called the young man by his name.
© Hazel S S Hall
22 Feb 2011
