deepundergroundpoetry.com

Visiting Grandma

I remember the cup,white and huge
poured for him by grandma
sitting on the warm side of the kitchen table
he rarely spoke to us kids
but his silence was not unfriendly.
The mantle shelf above the fire
its oven to the left
companion set, black sooty kettle
sitting on the black-lead grate
every Satday afternoon.
Aunt Mabel sewing dresses for a living,
chapel choir twice on a Sunday
a scrap-book and a pencil
on the table sitting still and silent
every Sat'day afternoon.
The back-yard garden wooden shed,
grandmas bonnet, marigolds and beans
not as big as ours,four miles away
across the bridge at Skeldergate
My brother in the pram,pilgrims,
every Sat'day afternoon.
too far to peddle my little car
walking 'til my legs fell off
only eight,but tall.
Soon there was a war  
grandma died and grand-dad
prostate I heard Mum say.
The bomb was meant for the station
missed it by a mile
left the front door and the windows
blew away the marigolds and the garden shed
No more crossing Skeldergate
every sat'day afternoon
watching grand-dad drinking from his saucer
aunt Mabel sewing dresses
home and pedal car playing with our friends
every Sat'day afternoon.
Written by Kexby (john rickell)
Published | Edited 3rd Feb 2014
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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