Last night there was a loud bang, loud enough for our next-door neighbours to wonder where it came from and to have us all investigating. My Dad was on the phone at the time but cut the call short as I put my trainers on to investigate.

Age is not kind, now he gets worried and mythered to the point where panic is not too far away and it struck me that although he is in his mid seventies and not in the best of health he had no intention of letting me go outside alone to investigate despite me being quite capable of dealing with whoever was out there, if anyone.

At one moment I had to tell him to get off a ladder quite sharply to make him see sense as he tried to check out next doors property for intrusion over the fence. It reminded me that as we get older there is a roll reversal between parents and children, and time, time becomes ever more precious.

Reversal

Ragged like tree rings
worry propels a pin drop to a gunshot.

Panic brewing on his toes
every second he now must hurry.

Gentle on the reigns we pull,
Sons and daughters counting every grain.

Time does not mean a lot to me and it never has partly because I spent most of childhood wishing my time would expire. However, as you get older time becomes more and more important for you realise it is not infinite, your time is set and every day it comes a little closer. Every day is a gift though often we take it for granted.

After writing on my Father recently I thought I would return to my mother and with it a stance of defiance.

Mother

She stole my watch
inverted the arms with
chicken bones
put an elbow of carpet stain
across the virgin face
pulled every lash,
broke every stone.
Three decades done
she never could stop
the tick tock.