Companions
I talk to Dad each morning
In the frame beside my bed
And then there'll be another word
When I catch geranium's crush
Or smell his summer greenhouse
In ripe tomato vines
Mum on the other hand
Pops up amongst the flowers
When I'm dead-heading annuals
I hear her daily chat
Encouraging the busies and petunias to bloom
Of course she's also in the kitchen
Where she always reigned supreme
No doubt she finds my Yorkshires
Are not quite up to par
And roasted Maris Piper
Lack a certain fluffy crunch
Another loved one leaving
Is remembered every hour
Grandfather clock is chiming
As it once did in her hall
And also in her tapestry
She speaks of what she loved
Creating things of beauty
Adornment for her home
So mingling with the living
The ghosts still have their say
An arm of consolation
A shoulder for a weep
A word of exhortation
Come on girl, get a grip!
It's good to have them with me
They make so few demands
Their traces and their echoes
Still a comfort in my life
July 16th 2009, autoroute Castelnaudary to Toulouse
That made me smile, because my Dad is in my vegetable garden, my mum, always when we have a bonfire, she is still with us but lives in the UK, I don't see her often enough.
ReplyDeleteSusan said that she hears her sister sitting by her pool complaining about the coldness of the water as she is doing her daily 20 lengths! It's lovely isnt it, xxx
ReplyDeleteGranny is in the hedgerows, hooking the best blackberries with the curved handle of her walking stick, elderberries dripping bring forth her whimsical look when we all groaned at her eating elderberry pie- she is the only person I know who could enjoy all those gritty little seeds. And dad gives me a warm hug each year when the lilies he gave me all those years ago bloom once again. He's beside me when I drive his old car. So many loved ones keeping us company - as you say Sally they make so few demands and bring much comfort as time passes.
ReplyDeleteReading your comments and Gill's made the tears come for me, Pam. It is surprising to me how after I have published my poems on to the blog I will often re-read them and then sometimes I respond differently, as if it wasn't my writing at all. I think the interaction with my readers- just you and Gill really now- is fantastic and I am inclined to think I would include this dialogue if I did publish as a book....
ReplyDeleteJude has flashes of her dad when studying objects carved in wood; and also in her son, Joshua she sees sometimes the same youthful enthusiasm.
ReplyDeleteBob says, the mum and dad I have in my head are the mum and dad from when I was in my teens. Tobacco smoke makes me think of Dad.
ReplyDeleteMike says, he actually hears his parents sometimes.