Dusty tins of condensed milk in the pantry.
Scholl slip on wooden sandals in the porch.
The blue labels worn down so only a soft oval remains in the wooden sole.
Tip toe hanging up the washing and the sandals falling down off dry heels.
Your life mapped by the cracks on your skin.
A drum of stagnant water in the corner of the steading.
Wellingtons with waterproofs wound around in the utility room.
Two sets of different ones, occasional and everyday wear.
Smelling of the black rubber cover over the silage pit and the cold stone ramp of the
Your life lived between the two.
A tree house made of old fence posts in Back Field.
Bare-feet drumming through the dust of the lane. Creosote sticking to the backs of knees.
Cow muck with a crust on top to poke with your toes, daring, pushing to see how far you
I never gave a thought then to how far we may go.
Elisabeth Kelly is an Early Years Teacher based on a hill farm in the Scottish Borders. She lives with her young family and too many animals. She has recently returned to writing. She has a poem currently in the Longlist for the Anthony Cronin Award at the Wexford Literary Festival 2020. She tweets at @eekelly22.
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