FMS Pictures & Poetry

They enter, one more couple
With their kids in tow :
A new born baby boy.
Her bastard son also.
Remarks come from the sideline
Comparing eyes, mouths and noses.
Not a word of how much different
Are the elder son’s poses
And of the lad’s obnoxious manner
Few words are ever uttered
Directly to the parents’ ears
Although I’m sure I’ve heard it muttered
Between the righteous and the proud
Guardians of so-and-so,
Sharing expensive wines and lines :
Gossip and merlot.
Of course, no ranks are broken
As bonds grow ever stronger :
Smiths and Browns stand united
And the closed family is no longer.
Favours are exchanged
With chit-chat and a smile.
Wondering hands and fingers
Start reaching for the dial;
Names and numbers passed along
Tenuous fragile threads
Among the near chaos
Of noisy kids and Uncle Teds.
And then the inevitable question
(I’ve been waiting on all day)
Enquiring as to just how long,
If I was really pressed to say,
It might be before I join them
In idle chat of kids and homes :
When will my existence be validated
In the fitting of pines and chromes?

An awkward silence leaves
Me wondering if I’m real;
If I’ll only be accepted
Once I’ve made that particular deal.
A certain truth appals and repels :
That I’m seen as a stride or two
Behind the folks present today,
And they even state it, too.
Now it could be that the grapes
Are somewhat past their best
But, with their comparing jobs, wives, nappies and cars,
I can leave this party at rest.