The Pulley

A lovely piece based on memories. I love these.

Beautifully written too.

Em

Only in retrospect can we see the circumstances during our childhood as they were and the way they affected us.

This had a very nostalgic feel to it and I am reading in between the lines you do not fault your parents for anything they may have done wrong or failed to realise.

Well done,
Ingrid

A very detailed little piece, Hellon. It's funny what we remember, isn't it? Sometimes the little things are what turn out to be the most vivid memories.
All the best and take care,
Ben

Hello Hellon,

we actually have one of these which I intend to fix up in our new kitchen extension. Instead of laundry we will be hanging our pots and pans onto it.

Your poem comes across as if it is written from vivid memories of sight and sound. I bet whenever you see one you hear the squeaking pulley.

The part that stands out for me is the other sound, the wheezing. This brings to mind a child who is ill, but more than this perhaps, a childhood filled with poor health. I also see the strings in more than a literal sense. I see them as the strings that bind us, keep us safe. A mother's love is that, the unconditional love that supports us and helps us through the tough times...

I see this as a tribute to the strong strings of love, a mother's love.

Take care,

Michael ((hugs))

It takes me back to them days where I would watch old people washing their clothes. Then they would hang them outside. It was hard work, lifting the weight but it was fun to watch. What a lovely write. Enjoyed reading