As a kid, I remember the prunes for brekkie
Who eats prunes? Certainly not me
Not then, not now, not ever, never.

Jam and bread for me and you
Before a tea
Of dumplings and stew,
A saucepan of water over my head
As I’m in the bathtub, getting wet.
“Stop your whining lass; it’s only water”
(Grandma rescues and becomes chief pourer).

The bunnies that lived at the end of the lane,
Hopscotch in the passage;
What a game.
The ice cream man played his song,
We’d skip down the road as we sang along.

Betty’s garden next door was always a win,
Well manicured with even a swing!
No gate needed,
Come and go as you pleased, we did.

Dominoes, cards, and chess,
Baking, gardening and time in the shed,
Making things from wood and nails
Leaving a trail;

Of mud through the house,
Carpets doused,
Grandma shouts,
And we run out.

Giggling away in the shed,
Full of inventions, hanging overhead,
Things you made to ease life’s woes,
Shovels and shears, garden hoes.

The greenhouse with broken glass,
Housed tomatoes that were always first class,
Rows of strawberry plants lined the land,
An old toilet bowl filled with plants,
A patch of grass ideal for cartwheels,
Compost pot for tea bags and orange peel.

Three square meals,
In the kitchen,
Just us three.
Homemade wine brewing,
Not for me, obviously.

Mugs of tea,
Jam and bread,
You and me.

When I grew up,
I wanted to share,
The fun I’d had with,
My, son & heir.

We’d play cards,
And revisit the shed,
You’d have a nap, no need for a bed.

You’d lay your head,
On a deckchair in the sun, Whilst we had fun,
You soaked up the rays,
This is how we spent so many days.

We’d visit every week and with you sit,
And Grandma would always insist,
That you drove us home at the end of the day,
When I would gladly listen to the tales,
Of times gone by,
Of streets that no longer exist and,
Kids that played in them wet or dry,
Day or night, in the dusky sky.

As time passed and my family grew,
Less and less that you could do,
And when Grandma left us,
A piece of you left too.

Since that day it’s been difficult,
But with time, you did catapult;
Your old self, out of its hiding place,
And my younger kids saw a glimpse,
Of the fun, we’d had all those years since.

Your memories are fading now,
But that’s OK,
My memories of us are here to stay,
And I’ll remind you in every way,
Of the fun, we had back in those days,
And the history that won’t go away.

I remind you of who I am,
And tell you how old you are, again,
And we laugh and talk about old times,
And you ask me how old you are, again,
And I tell you, again,
And we laugh about old times again,
And you ask me how old you are, again,
And I tell you, again,
And again.

Holding back tears,
I smile at you,
I know he’s in there,
The old you.

I miss you, Grandad, I love you.

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