Welcome to this weeks Sunday Sit Down. Grab a cuppa and a comfy chair and sit down to read. One of the great things about doing this Sunday Sit Down Creative Writing Series, is stumbling across poety and short stories which I wrote, hid away and haven’t read in years. Today’s poem is almost a follow up of Lessons Learned. It is a poem about grandparents, older age and a child’s gentle innocence. I hope you enjoy it.
~~~ Ashes from the Fire ~~~
Dust sits in between the pleats of your dress.
I wonder have you ever moved from the
Armchair in the corner of the room or
Do you eat, sleep and dream, sitting
Upright in the chair that has faded to grey.
You smell of heat and ashes from the fire,
The way the house smells of old gravy,
And clings to every dusty corner.
I wonder do you clean out the fire grate
When no one is around or looking?
Lord knows you pray, I’ve heard you
Whisper in between your toothless gums
The Our Father and then toast the Lord
With a prayer of thanks for every new
Day he gives to you. Blessed be to god.
You can last almost a minute – I’ve counted –
Without blinking. And you scratch your
Nails along the armrest catching loose threads.
You smile every time I catch your eye
And I quickly look at the floor.
“Don’t be rude,” my mother says harshly.
But I don’t mean to be, I’m only wondering
Only thinking, so I ask you, you lean forward
To hear me better, “Will I smell like ashes
From the fire when I grow old?”
Geraldine Walsh © Over Heaven’s Hill