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FAMILIAL JUICE STEW



It was bare' a month back, or so it seems
We were seeing off poor Uncle Ron,
Denise, Cheryl, Kaylene, and I
With Aunt Ivy dourly watching on.

Then from the crowd distant faces loomed
Our cousins from Vic's countryside,
Robin and Sally who we'd last seen in ‘87
Had come to town when Uncle Ron died.

Many years ago on Lind Crest farm
John, Sally, and I had frolicked and played,
Three young mates in Gippsland East
Playing at farmers through the summer days.

John as the eldest was ‘course the boss
He'd tell Sally and me what we would do,
How to pass the holidays away
Till we'd return to Melbourne as summer flew.

But in 1987 John sadly passed away
And Sally came down to help us mourn,
But as years have turned to decades
Without my brother, I'm still forlorn.

So Denise and I were fair intent
On striking up old friendships again,
But with a curt, abrupt exit
Sally made it plain we're not her friends.

Robin reluctantly made some small talk
But as fast as possible walked away,
Leaving us to ponder their rudeness when
We had been such friends in our younger days.

But time makes fools of all men
And it seems of many women too,
So let them live alone and lonely
And in their familial juices stew.

THE END
© Copyright 2021, Philip Roberts
Melbourne, Victoria, Australia

About this poem

It was bare' a month back, or so it seems We were seeing off poor Uncle Ron, Denise, Cheryl, Kaylene, and I With Aunt Ivy dourly watching on.

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Written on February 07, 2009

Submitted by PHIL_ROBERTS on August 18, 2021

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Phil Roberts

I am 64 and loves cats, rock music, and horror fiction and poetry more…

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