Alone

That black and white photograph
Sits on the mantelpiece's cleft
Watching the grandfather clock
Roll his eyeballs from left to right, right to left.

Listening to the gramophone play
The giant records which were oh so popular,
The grandfather clock lets out a burp.
Oh that timely burp which sounds
Oh so melodious to no one in particular.

Grandmother sits in her rocking chair at
One corner knitting her sweater for
The unborn child.
They are going to name it Godot.
She sits there, basking in antiquity,
Knitting till her hands turned sore.

The sun sets.
We use digitalised coloured photographs now.
We have digital clocks now.
We have radios now.
We have sewing machines now.
And we definitely don't need ugly sweaters for our child.