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
afraid
without its reminder;
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
afraid
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
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
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
(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
radiating as sparkling waves
he resumes his
verse
in pensive mood
his heart, with
pleasure filled
by the ease
with which I now smile
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