On A Lovely Sunny Afternoon In 1963

The music of
the squeak

of my father’s
bicycle

dragging us up the hill until
in a mad blind freewheel

we tamed the hill
by transforming it into speed

& shrank the distance
ticked off by the spokes

becoming a blur
in time

and how sad I was

when he oiled the clanking chain
& the fiery front wheel

& the bicycle lost its voice
& its ability to sing

in the key of squeak

and how we glided silently in
to Mam & tea & T.V

on this lovely summer evening
in 1963.

by Dónall Dempsey

Comments (2)

Oh how with some tiny little detail you open up the whole vista of the past. From the music of your Dad's bike to the gliding into tea we have undergone such a fascinating ride. A delicious poem...if there is such a thing. The past not just brought back to life but lived again to the nth degree in the present. Oh my heart! GinaXX
So delightful to read and you were so marvelous in capturing so many memorable moments. Ben