Ladder Man

My Dad was a ladder maker
constructing kit for cleaners of windows
slow and steady in his craft putting pride before profit
his ladders rested upon sills and guttering
of every discerning domestic dwelling in Derbyshire

Dad only used good unblemished wood
free from faults and knots
he did not sell steps filled with putty mix
berating those who operate quick and dirty fixes
which may betray the trust of unsuspecting customers

From my Dad I learned to discover deceit
searching cracked smiles and creaking protestations
gleaning hidden truths beneath glossed over surfaces
his lofty craft keeping my feet firmly on the ground.

Published by

Julia Dean-Richards

Julia is a writer and performer living in the Shropshire hills. Her writing is a product and expression of the love she has found whilst journeying through the most difficult times of her life.

4 thoughts on “Ladder Man”

    1. Thank you, dear Sharmishtha. Drawing links with personal history, help me to understand things which move me to write now. L.P. Hartley said ‘The past is another country: they do things differently there.’ They do, but I feel ‘they’ may be the key holders of our future x

please feel free to comment on these poems - all feedback appreciated. :)

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