I stumbled upon this poem written many years ago and bringing back such sweet memories. Written for the person who made my childhood so special, encouraging fun-filled days spent getting up to all kinds of mischief and with my favourite cousin, whom I so admired!!!
Early morning cuckoo’s call
Arouses her from sleep
The chill of the morn crawls through old bones
As across the landing she’ll creep.
Aged fingers set to work
Laying the joy of her day
A fire to thaw the cold of one’s home
And to boil a pot of tea when she may.
Through muddy fields she trudges
Searching endlessly for a solitaire hen
She should have worked on yesterday
And fixed that wretched pen.
At last, tired but happy she rests
Grandchildren sat at her feet
Trying to grab Grandma’s attention
Whilst their faces turn rosy from the fire’s heat.
Days of yesterday, Gran
I sit and remember, just like you…
Days of warmth and childish delight
That this modern world could never get right.