Meet Ken, he lives at the same care home as my mum.
Ken loves poetry, especially if someone is prepared to give him a few minutes of their time to really listen to him recite some of it.
Kens has an excellent speaking voice, I could listen to him for hours. He reminds me of someone that does voice overs for adverts, and who knows perhaps Ken has!
I expect a lot of people in care homes have tales to tell, if only they could remember all of them.
Ken entertained me and my mum one afternoon out in the garden with his Jiffy bag full of poetry, here is one of my favourites.
THE GIRL ON THE STAIRS by Lawrence Hanray
Written in the 19th century
I've kissed many girls in many conditions kissed them both with and without their permissions But never a one for a moment compares With the girl that I kissed, in the dark, on the stairs.
It was just round the corner, a very sharp turning Someone kindly forgot to leave a light burning We met with a bump, caught both unawares And somehow or other we just kissed on the stairs.
Was she fair, was she dark, was she mistress or maid? An innocent schoolgirl or hearbreaking jade I never discovered and I don't really care Enough that we met and we kissed on the stairs.
She didn't say yes and she didn't say no But she clung pretty tight and she wouldn't let go A lover who wins is a lover who dares So I kissed her again in the dark on the stairs.
Her lips were so soft and her skin it was creamy And as for her eyes, well I bet they were dreamy But alas, total darkness one's vision impairs But you don't need to look when you kiss on the stairs.
For fully a minute she clung pretty tight Then up on the landing some fool lit a light And swearing the softest of feminine swears She kissed me and left me alone on the stairs
That was long, long ago and I'm fast growing old
And the girls nowadays leave me out in the cold
But I just close my eyes to such mundane affairs
And fancy I'm kissing that girl.....on the stairs.