Brutal Truth

My entry, stage left

Was only watched

By attendant midwifery.

My birthday had come,

A bit later than expected.

The year clock had rocked over,

Tick Tock to 1956.

Day Two of 1956,

What a vintage year.

However a boy and not a girl.

Not a Veronica,

But a Christopher.

A brute of a boy.

Such Disappointment.

This I was to be told

Later, much later.

And how do you think

I felt at seven

Given this news?

Not Rock Solid I can tell you.

Although 1963

Wasn’t such a bad toast

Of a year for me.

Christopher Thompson

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