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Poems by Mark Totterdell

Ice Cream

 

We’re walking towards Land’s End,

fields to our left, a vast sea to our right.

Ahead of us, an ice cream van like a shiny spaceship.

I turn to you and say

 

Can I have an ice cream, Daddy?

It’s my little nod to childhood.

I’m 47. You smile. Moments later

you turn to me and say

 

Can I have an ice cream, Daddy?

You’ve stolen my line without even knowing.

 

We walk on with our cones.

I’m bearing mine like a flaming torch.

The sea is such a long way down.

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