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Image for the poem That Cold Summer Day

That Cold Summer Day

When I was younger,
With blonde hair, hanging lazily
Down my back in soft curls,
At that age of young innocence.
The summers, usually so light and airy
Usually full of strong rays of sunshine
With children laughing and smiling.
 
But that one summer
Felt so empty, so dark and heavy.
The idea of death was so unknown,
But now it hung above our heads
Changing everything.
 
After that day I was never able to touch
His old, hard, and leathery skin again
With the tubes sticking out
Of his frail and ghostly body
Like sharp needles.
 
I could still smell the wintry freshness
Of those mints he always handed
Out to us grandchildren.
We pretended like he was never there.
 
In my memories, he was never able to move freely.
He felt constricted to the depths
Of his bedroom in the back corner
Or silently sitting in his chair,
Never being able to hear his
Once rich and powerful voice.
We were trying to onto  
Something that we couldnít understand.
You told me that some people
Were going to come and take him away.
I didnít ask why. I didnít care
About him until he was long gone
And I thought that maybe,
Someday he would come back,
But he never did.  
 
I was never able to meet the man
That my grandfather was.
Back to a time when he was healthy,
Before the sickness and death.
I wish that I had been able to meet
The man who loved his family
So dearly, so thoughtfully.
The man who I heard so many
Crazy and wild stories about.
 
That summer is now long gone.
But I think back to it often,
Forever remembering the pain
And darkness in that cold summer day.
Written by eswaller
Published | Edited 20th Oct 2019
Author's Note
This is an older poem I wrote many years ago about the death of my grandpa who died when I was pretty young. This is an entry for Dark Childhood Poem competition. © Image Copyright Elena Waller
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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