She can’t be rushed, oh no, everything according to its season.
And just when you can’t bear the barren ground for much longer,
she spreads a little happiness-croci, snow drops and the yellow
daffodils sprout forth. It’s a glorious sight to behold. How does she do it?
Every year, I wonder if the winter has been too tough, too cold,
or if the slugs have done them in, as they weave through the soil,
evading the evil eyes of the magpies who seek to devour them.
And yet, here we are again; February arrives, and with it, memories
of years gone by, clearing the debris from granny’s garden,
admiring the hundreds of snow drops beneath the fir tree.
The rose bushes were trimmed, as we flirted with the lads
who lived above, Sandra and me. Not a care in the world, except,
were they watching? Do we look okay? Those were care free days;
fifteen with long locks of brown hair, and a waist line taken for granted.
And granny shouting us in for tea and cake-but not before we had a large bowl
of her delicious vegetable broth. That was the best soup ever; it must’ve been the love that she sprinkled into everything she made. One day, common sense decided to move house, taking away her ability to make her soup, or a cup of tea.
Three vacuum cleaners and two washing machines later, the doctors were called, and they declared, dementia was to blame. Things would never be the same.
Saturdays at granny’s became very quiet-the crowds that gathered before,
were somewhere else.
Fair weather friends, or family in this case disappeared.
Instead of eating her soup-I bathed her and washed her hair.
She carried a photo of me at fifteen-oh the irony;
that’s how she remembered me, with my long brown hair,
and a waistline taken for granted.
When I think of her, I remember her hearty laugh, and her hugs.
In my mind’s eye, she’s fifty, with dyed black hair-
more beautiful than Elizabeth Taylor.
Her heart was pure, and she spoke only kind words,
well until Mr Alzheimer moved in. Even then, I loved her, why wouldn’t I?
She was the kindest person in all the world.