Wellington

Wellington: half-hot and half not

                    half super-smart and strutting-stuff, half scruff.

Found in one of my old diary entries, from May 1989 

Photo

Photo

Each time I climb the stairs

the faded photo of the skinny boy

is leaning to the left again.

Smarten up, boy! I say.

He grins, salutes, and again

next time I climb, to the left

he leans. I'll inform your sergeant,

I state, but the boy's sergeant,

we both well know, is long gone. The

boy hooks his crooked cap rightwards,

to compensate for his lingering

leftward lean. Long dead, this

teenage, ageless soldier

grins, salutes. And leans again.