We farewelled my grandma six years ago. This poem captures that time of saying goodbye.
Joyce
braving the grim sky
we head out together
her grand and great grand
bundled like babushkas
atop the tram
guided by the faithful plod
of a long lashed equine
rain spits across our cheeks
we look back on the hillock
where yesterday
under canopy from the thunder and torrents
decked in roses
she was lowered down
then at the house we sat in her room
just how it always was
looked through her wardrobe
at her dresses waiting neatly
for her
now on the island we scramble up the rocks
stare out at the wild sea
and there
bright as her decades of dresses
colours stretch across the sky
we imagine she is beaming
having gathered us like chicks
once again
©2019 Belle Perry
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