Letters to Objects: A Memoir of Portadown

Working on a new manuscript. Letters to objects. Some of it memoir. Some of it stories. Maybe prose poetry. Some with pathos (but hopefully not bathos). Tis the season for the invasion of memories. Here is one about growing up in Oakwood Place in Portadown, N. Ireland. My Granda. Roses. It can never do it justice. It being language. It being the passing of time and people.

Here is my first letter. It is called “Dear Roses”