Thursday, 13 April 2017

How do I tell you?

I watch your deep untroubled sleep,
I stroke your hair and mutely weep.
How do I tell you when you rise?
It’s grief and pain that fills my eyes.

As my chest burns with fear of loss,
You dream of rides and candy floss.
I hold my phone and text a friend,
I pray … but know it is the end.

Sweet memories are crushing me,
Of hazy days spent by the sea,
Strong hands that lift above the waves,
Rock pools and nets and hidden caves.

You wriggle, laugh but do not wake,
My phone rings and I start to shake.
I see his face when you were born,
My heart rips further, shredded, torn.

He was so proud of you and I,
But time was up, he had to fly.
You’re only four, how to explain,
That life will never be the same.

Your eyes flick open, you stretch and yawn,
I hold you close, it’s almost dawn.
I sit, explain, watch as you cry …

Last night my Dad, your Grandad died.

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