Tuesday, 21 January 2020

The cups rattle

The cups rattle
Here comes the tea
We are visiting grandma don't you see

The house is dark 
The lights don't shine
They're not put on 'til dinnertime

She thinks we're deaf 
She shouts at us
She lost her hearing aids, not us!

Hear the rattle
Brings in a tray
As her best china's on display

Filled with pleasure 
She pours the tea
Now she splashed it on wife and me

Aloud she shouts 
She's much to say
Visitors are few down her way

Brings out album
Of pictures old
Strange people huddled in the cold

She nods and smiles 
Her past recalled
Reliving moments quite enthralled

Rain in England
And snow in France
Her eyes light up as memories dance

Her fingers move
It's time we went
She clings to us her back is quite bent

Few weeks later
Heard that she'd died
Harmless Gran, we were sad and both cried

Image found at www.pixabay.com

1 comment:

  1. Ah, what pleasure she took from your company, pouring cups f tea, going through old photos and memories - the most important thing to the elderly, as we now know ourselves. She looks like she was a happy soul. I love your poem, Robin.