Am I in Rochester? - Tony Bradley

My little brother and I sometimes looked after Aunt Winnie
Mother would bring her, but herself not stay
turns out Aunt Winnie wasn't a relative at all
but we had to watch her, sometimes all day.

Her mind used to wander, we were too young to realise
we just thought she was mad, or a witch
we used to play along, in her ramblings
we were either afraid, or amused, I can't remember which.

"Am I in Rochester . . .tickets please . . .mind the doors
let the cat out, Beryl, two-and-thruppence, . . .where's my hat ?"
We'd assume our roles, both looking for the 'hat', and stamp her ticket,
and I'd be 'Beryl', and remove the 'cat'.

If we were older and wiser, we'd have understood better
although, in a way, for Aunt Winnie it was good
she wanted to go back to happier times
and the days she was with us, the dear old soul could

Tony Bradley