Semi - Panto

The smoke from a pipe Frozen solid by sunshine; a different soap in the bathroom and the scent of wintering apples. The house stands like a single word on an empty page with its long flat views and memories of waves breaking on the hills. Never at television, Just the crooning happy faced radio with its box full of singers bathed in the yellow glow of Hilversum and Moscow. And at the end of the day Jesus smiling from the wall and my Grandmother reading promises from scripture tightly scrolled and full of random surprise. It was to do with dying. Christ walking away from the picture and waltzing my grandmother into the sunshine in time to soft voices from her radio as we shower them with handfuls of promises. All the words from the Bible, falling like snow.