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The Radio

My childhood is inside this box of noise.

I found it at the back of a shed,

Wires twisted and its coat enslaved in dust.

My parents bought this when they were poor.

Mr Fraser spoke from here. On the war.

And Aunt Daisy, live from Wellington.

How wonderful to hear her voice

Away up there, in the settling frost.

And dad and Dave – Lord, what a laugh.

So they said.

They sat around the dancing fire

Listening to the far world.

Thank goodness for the serials.

And the unvarnished truth:

It’s seven o’clock: here is the news.

A woven face and wooden lattice

To sift the voices of the land

2 thoughts to “The Radio”

  1. Thanks Lesly for commenting on this. Same for me, just reading this brings back memories of early morning before school and never quite getting to hear ‘Doctor Paul’, that endless series…

    Love the ending, John, exactly how it was:
    A woven face and wooden lattice
    To sift the voices of the land

  2. I found this wonderful, John. Brought back so clearly my childhood in UK listening to “steam” radio. Many things never forgotten. I remember being terrified when I listened through my bedroom wall to Kraken Awakes, The Wages of Fear and the The Monkey’s Paw! The only thing I detested was having to keep quiet while Dad listened to the cricket/footie on a Saturday afternoon!! Thank you for sharing.

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