THAT KIND OF GIRL.

Oh, that photo, Grandmother
Says, well that was just one
Of those things you did back

Then, I mean a girl has to get
Work where she can and they
Were hard times and I was quite

A looker then, or so they said,
The men and Mr Clampin. You
Study the photo and hold it close

To your eyes, the huge umbrella
Covers most of Grandmother’s
Parts, but you imagine she’s nude

Behind it, and she doesn’t seem
At all worried about you gazing
At it so long, she’s busy getting

Tea and Granddad’s snoozing in
His chair, his head down, his hands
Folded neatly in his lap. Grandfather

Says that’s his favourite or at least
It was back then, he carried it around
With him for ages showing it proudly

To other men. Grandmother pauses,
Looks at Granddad asleep by the fire,
A barely audible snore issuing now

And then. Best put it back in the box
Where it belongs, Grandmother says,
Your mother’d be prudish if she saw it

There, always was, never showed her
Any of those kind of things, but times
Are different now, and you young

Henry, well you need to know these
Things, need to know what life has to
Offer and what time brings. You nod

Taking one last glimpse of the photo
And imagine that the lady in the photo
With the huge umbrella smiles back at

You and gives the umbrella a twirl, yes,
That’s Grandma, she was that kind of girl.