Mentor

April drizzle softens the winds fists 

and is almost spent by the time I reach Granddads little abode.

 

His hugeness fills the cottage door.

An eighty-year-old-body of illness and courage.

 

Coming into his view

I hear him laughing

his laughter heartwarming as ever.

 

Doorstep toast

shovelled on with best butter and jam

soon to be partnered by hot steaming tea

in man-sized mugs sugary with the consistency of syrup

drunk in between precious family and friend updates.

 

Later he dodders a short distance back with me

my doll-like hand in his giant palm, he says

well, what do you know Jemsy? ( his pet name for me )

'my first time out in a long time!'

( I think the excitement overcame his incapability )

 

From a distance, I turn around and see him

massively silhouetted waving to me in the doorway

against the cheery log fires glow

and I am filled with love admiration and sorrow

knowing that one day

I will have been to visit him for the very last time

while knowing and yet not knowing why?

 

🌷 (6)

◄ Death throes and diversions

my puerile years ►

Comments

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Patricia and Stefan Wilde

Sat 3rd Mar 2018 20:44

God bless ya girl for giving us Granddads a mention and how beautifully you have done so with this stunning poem.Well done 'Jemsy!'

Stef x Well

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LEON STOLGARD

Sat 3rd Mar 2018 17:06

superbly written and very moving piece Jems

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Jemima Jones

Tue 20th Feb 2018 18:06

He is certainly worth remembering and not just in a poem in many other places as well that is for sure. No doubt most if not all of you Ladies and Gentlemen ( Martin, Frances, Patricia and Stefan, Ruby, Freya, Rose ) have many lovely Granddad tales to tell too. Your likes and comments are really appreciated. Thank you. Jemima.

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Rose Casserley

Sat 10th Feb 2018 10:30

most certainly deserves a WOW! made me 😭 a little.








Rose 💋

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Martin Elder

Sun 4th Feb 2018 19:08

This is a beautifully told story with a great opening line.
love it

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