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Finlay Hall

Fruit of the Loins


The simple truth is

We were all seeds once

Somewhere in the past

The distant past

Or, less so for others

The ancient primordial swamp

That was the beginning

Not the actual swamp

But the proverbial swamp

The swamp of first time fumbling

The grumbling

“ Shush, my parents will hear us.”

Or

“I’ve waited so long for this,”

Inner thoughts

(Wow, was that worth waiting for?)

Or

“ Yuck, gads.”


My mum told me recently, last year,

when I phoned to speak to her

On the anniversary of my dad's death

The day after what would have been their 68th wedding anniversary

She said, “ This time, this exact time, 68 years ago,

At this exact time, Your dad and I were, for the first time,

Trying to make you. “


Yeah.

That was my reaction too.

But in silence.


That primordial swamp so long ago.

Well,

It didn’t create anything.

I arrived later.


We were all seeds once.