Tick Tock clock dead

No-one checks what the kids watch

on TV when on their  own

Ring Ring Phone Broken

Doesn’t take any time to stare out into space

so you can do it as much as you like

you will never be late

 

It’s the usual story parents fighting

Gas lighting each other

It’s so common it would feel strange if

There wasn’t a row first thing in the morning

And of course, the beginning of the disappearing

uMhlanga* Rocks or was it Sands?

It no longer matters,

it was catastrophic regardless

 

You’ll love Christmas on the beach

They promised

and we as kids agreed with

whatever was presented upon the table

Traditions and promises weren’t kept in our family

Survival was to be flexible enough to spin on a quarter

and keep smiling far longer than you oughta.

 

Tick Tock clock dead

No one checks on who talks to

the kids on the beach

Ring ring phone broken

Doesn’t take a shrink to analyse

they’re telling lies to us to them again

 

Presents opened on a hotel floor

lack the panache and grandeur

of discoveries at home. In amongst the ordinary,

parcels brightly wrapped,

even as large as a finger nail

would be pronounced magic.

 

There’s  no room to play so toys are packed away

and it’s down to the beach for a holiday

of watching long walks and disappearances

While we played in the surf watching

the adults play tag

 

Tick Tock clock dead

No one checks on who gives out

the memories to the kids to keep

Ring ring phone broken

They had to be so much more

inventive before we attached to technology.

 

(*Pronounced UM-SHLANG-A, in South Africa)