In memory of my dad, who would have turned 80 today..
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A young girl, with curly auburn hair
legs swinging,
sitting on a weathered stool,
sorting an old paint tin of mixed nails,
for pocket change
fresh sawdust,
on the broom,
fingered letters in the dirt,
sweat-polished hand plane,
just out of reach
shelac flakes
a waft of turps on the breeze
an unrecognisable whistled tune
breaking the quiet,
time for a break
home made ginger beer
time
with no words
in the shed
content,
together
dad,
and girl apprentice .
