Loved my parents for their storytelling, dad with
a bedtime story - a special stone block that was
removed to steal a king’s treasure - thus robbers
could bankrupt him; I recall the thrill of hearing
This strange tale for the first time - mother told
about Tom Thumb, his dad made matchstick toys
while his mother made clothes from rose petals
and moon fairies slid down moonbeams to earth
While mom sang lullabies - dad is poetry to me -
long ballads exploding in a staccato gunfire style,
mom playing Bocherini & The Moonlight Sonata,
slow melodies evoking deep feeling – but I lacked
Affection for my twin sis who insisted on rebellion,
calling down everyone’s wrath on everything we did
while I desperately tried to melt into the background –
wide-eyed wonder on hearing Verna Vels telling of
The Dear Little Witch being confused, never left me
as attested to by my paper doll with her wondering
expression standing next to my bed…
14 June 2013
Verna Vels – Liewe Heksie
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