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P. 9
The Quarryman’s Tale
Wendy Lalla Wharam
The old folk sit and doze,
their cozy chairs
in serried ranks
It’s my day off.
I’ve come to visit Dad
in the Care Home.
I tell him about my lads,
in computers now.
He doesn’t speak,
Dad, who knew each layer of stone
Could recite them off as neat
as you would tell
your two mes table.
Layers, subsec ons of layers
the cap, the fender, the vybit,
the cinder – you name it –
you couldn’t fault him.
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