Wednesday 31 December 2014


This is a detour from the narrative of this blog, but I wanted to share it. 


I slept badly almost every night when I was very small
I’d toss and turn and cry and fight and you’d hear me through the wall
You held my hand, sat by my bed and took away my fear
Stroked the hair upon my head and said the words ‘I’m here’
Now you’re the one who’s scared and frail and needs help with everything
I feed you and you look so pale, your eyes searching, your body thin
In my childhood many years ago “Granny” meant magic and glee
I was then too young to know how cruel old age could be
When Friday night was Granny Night, we watched old films and baked
Played board games to our heart’s delight, knitted and ate cake
You had a wooden button box and we used the spares as draughts
In the hall stood a big tall clock – when it made us jump you laughed
I recall bags of wool in every shade, the stories that you told
I remember all the clothes you made for me and for my dolls
Your breasts were large and pillow-like, your lap was strong and wide
Now you’re small and feather-light, you’re weak and you are tired
And I want us to look at photographs while you talk about the war
But you can’t sit or see or even laugh when you feel so ill and sore
So I try to make some idle chat and tell you about my job
But I can’t even seem to manage that as when I try to talk, I sob
So I hold your hand, sit by your bed, wipe away both of our tears
Kiss you on your tired old head and say the words ‘I’m here.’

1 comment:

  1. Very moving poem which I'm sure many of us can identify with.