When the granddaughters leave tomorrow,
we’ll stop finding bits of colour all over the house
from purple hairbands to pink bracelets,
from scrunched-up chocolate wrappers
to half-drunk bottles of Fanta, and tiny frilly skirts
or cut-off denim shorts strewing the floor.
When the granddaughters leave tomorrow
taking their dancing legs, their big eyes, their laughter —
he'll put away the family photos, I’ll rearrange the fridge.
The cats will reclaim some territory: their favourite chairs.
We’ll remark on the quiet, and the emptiness of the space.
We’ll resolve to chat to them much more often on facebook.
NaPoWrMo Day 8
Some of these poems are autobiographical, some are entirely fictional, and some are a mixture of both. The intention is art rather than self-expression. I don't allow factual details to get in the way of poetry! (I do seek emotional truth.)
They are works in progress, and may be subject to revision without notice. Completed versions appear in my books. Nevertheless copyright applies to all texts found here.
Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your posts as much as possible.