Tag Archives: death

grandad.

You are not lying in that bed.

Instead
You are swinging my youthful
grandmother between your knees
Toes tapping to the beat.
Teddy boy, with feet
like rampant, fluid wildfire;
You are not lying in that bed.
Instead
You have donned a purple wig
and wrinkled old stockings
And you’re singing, with a smile
In your own inimitable style;
You are not lying in that bed.
Instead
You’re fighting angry tentpoles
In a freezing winter field
With a twinkle in your eye
“We’ll be comfy!” – what a lie!
You are not lying in that bed.
Instead
You are holding out a strong hand
To hold on, tight, to mine,
to show you’re there, and will remain –
You won’t let me feel such pain;
You are not lying in that bed.
In my head
We are dancing
In Bulgaria, 93
Can you feel it?
Can you see?
There are things I want to tell you
That you’re never going to know
Unless I keep the faith inside me
That your hearing’s yet to go
So I grab the chance with both hands
And I lean over to kiss you
And I hope you leave me knowing
That I’m really going to miss you –
You are not lying in that bed.
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