Born then torn, named then sold
A premium bond without a breast.
Hunted down by Nana, looking like
Mouskouri, a horn rimmed reclaimer.
Lives were easier to recoup back then,
less paper work, less blood sodden tape.
Lived idyllically, cheekily fixing lawn
mowers, admiring my grandfather’s
gaunt face, and mutton broth. Breathing
grass and privet hedges, wearing strawberry
china sandals, delicately being loved by old
people, whose distant smell of loss still
lingers, whose cancers battled till the death,
Nana's lung failed, grandfather’s pancreas won
We all lost.
Post Edited (11-29-04 21:54)
Doubt everything. Find your own light.
A fine remembrance to carry on with.
Peter
Born then torn, named then sold
A premium bond without a breast.
Interesting yet painful!
delicately being loved by old
people, whose distant smell of loss still
lingers, whose cancers battled till the death,
Nana's lung failed, grandfather’s pancreas won
We all lost.
beautiful depiction of memories, and to what conclusion. Loss is just a result, the process being more significant in its impact.
Loss is just a result, the process being more significant in its impact.
Khalida, your amazing.
"Loss is just a result, the process being more significant in its impact."
so very true.
Doubt everything. Find your own light.
A beautiful remembrance Kris. It's amazing what we recall from our youth. In my mind I can still smell the vanilla in the kitchen from my mom's homemade cookies.
Les
Post Edited (12-01-04 00:47)