the spaghetti stains

remember the spaghetti stains
on the clothes
sides of the mouth and cheeks


the gashes on the knees
dirty feet hands
unkempt hair

do you miss them?

the rhymes we sang at school
crooked Es and the awkward Ls
the haphazard but colourful drawings
pure in its spontaniety

and skimming story books
discarding those without pictures
if they do
delved into their straw houses
their vanila castles
ride with winged unicorns
until they were translated to reality

climb trees, pretending to be wendy
or dress up as a princess in gowns

entering houses
itching to look into those cabinets
those ajar doors
their knobs varnished and beguiling
oh the worlds inside them
treasure chests
hidden rooms
antique rocking chairs
fading pictures
tattered books
and what's that thing?

the bed used to be hard to climb onto
the garden used to stretch to eternity

and perhaps most of all

to hold mother's hand again
as when crossing the road
be carried by uncle
face fitting snugly on his shoulders

under dinning tables with sister
counting polished shoes