On the ferry
from the postcard
We held hands
as I stood
against the rails;
towards Brodick
and our family day.
 
My brother, older
and more content with
motor bikes than castles,
declined.
 
I can’t remember
what we did.
I recall the gift shop;
they walked ahead in the
darkening afternoon.
Not touching;
a whimsical connection.
 
On the ferry
from the postcard
I held their hands
as I stood
against the rails;
towards home
and his suitcase in the hall.