With Father’s Day approaching I have decided to publish a poem I wrote in honour of my wonderful Grandad, the man I consider to be my father.
My Grandad died many years ago but was the one man I knew would always be there for me. He still is. He is in my heart and in my decision making. It is to him I still turn to and when I look to his picture on the wall I know I was blessed to have him to call mine. I can still feel his hand around my own. My compass and my light.
Was it only yesterday I last saw him?
I can still feel the coarseness of his jumper on my face, my safe place
Encircled in comfort
And yet it was years ago and I was much younger
I remember the bonfires and the scent of the wood
Moving the hedgehogs, sweeping the leaves
But it was so long ago and I was a child when we dug the potatoes
Gathering them and inhaling the earthiness
I was not yet born but they chose my mother from many
and therefore chose me too
Then I held his finger in my fist
and saw my first glimpse of unconditional love in his eyes
His essence still with me
The staff by which each man is measured
© In The Autumn Of My Life 2016