We used it every day
When I was growing up.
The name stamped on the back
Is Greydawn – all one word.
It isn’t grey. It’s blue.

I made this point quite often.
‘Why do they call it grey?’
The grown-ups didn’t know
And tired of the question.
I still wonder.

There are there plates left –
Medium-sized, pudding plates.
All the rest – dinner and cheese plates,
Soup bowls – have disappeared,
Like the people who used them.

Mummy, Daddy, Nanna,
Sitting round the dining-room table.
And I have spun through the air
Into the future, all by myself,
With three of our blue plates.

from Family Values (Faber, 2011), © Wendy Cope 2011, used by permission of the author and the publisher

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