My Gran

A poem

photo from mum and dads attic

I want to see my Gran again,
I can’t and that’s not fair,
She’s in my head,
Come rain and shine,
Why can’t she still be here?

Why can’t I see her
Coming through the kitchen
With a smile,
She wrapped me in
Such gentle love
I knew myself worthwhile.

So many things have happened
Since she died,
So much to share,
So many stories to be told..
Why can’t my Gran be here?

Still, I use the things she gave me,
Keep her memory strong and clear.
Remembering years of happy days
These trinkets keep her near.

And if I want to hold her close,
And hug her now and then,
Well that’s OK,
It’s only ‘cause,
I miss my lovely Gran.

© Cathie Tufnail

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