Saturday, June 22, 2013

Risk 2 final draft

I have reworked this poem over the past few days and this is where it sits at the moment. There have been a number of edits, inclusions and deletions to get it to where I'm reasonably happy with it. It tells the story I wanted to tell.

my grandfather lies on the couch
a benign Mr Toad, hands 
clasped below his belly

watching sunbeams play 
in the space between us

I stand, face frozen in a smile
(he calls me his smiley),
that becomes painful to hold
but I cannot risk it slipping
he will forget who I am
without its reminder;
for he is old, very old

he recites Wordsworth
in the burr of his mother country;
I fall into the thrall of  stars

that twinkle on the milky way
and dance amongst daffodils
on the magic path he weaves

at his urging, I sing
You are my Sunshine
(yet to learn I can't carry a tune)
his moustache bristles into a smile,
the sun lights his face
his eyes laugh, wrinkles 
radiating as sparkling waves

he resumes his verse
in pensive mood
his heart, with pleasure filled
by the ease
with which I now smile 

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For some reason I'm yet to fathom I'm unable to reply to comments left by others so thank you for dropping by and taking the time to read and comment. Merlene