Embryo part 2

I rarely share my poetry as it is usually intensely personal, but since (I assume) I am among friends I will share this one:


I sit with a tiny child on my knee
And read her a story - she’s only three
And she snuggles her granddad
Her hair soft and glowing
The love that I feel still swelling and growing.


Why are you crying granddad?
Granddads are not meant to cry
It is just the sunlight darling
It is just the sun in my eye
But the warmth of her tiny fingers
And the smell of her silken hair
Have reminded me of long ago
Sat in the very same chair

When I sat with a different child and a book
Who had the same warmth and had the same look
And at the end of the page was asked - read another
And that little child was this little child’s mother.


JJ April/May 2014