Wishing

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I want to talk to granddad but he’s not at home these days

Mum says he’s gone to Jesus and he’ll listen if we pray.

But I don’t want to talk to him unless he’s here with me

I won’t know if he’s there at all unless his face I see.

He started to get very tired a few short months ago

His face went pale, his skin turned grey and no-one thinks I know.

But I could see the pain he felt, I watched him as he failed

And then one day he wasn’t there, dad said to heaven he’d sailed.

They told me stories about God and all the folks who’ve gone

To talk to him and stay with him, and that my granddad’s one.

Mum says he’ll like it where he is, and that he’ll stay up there

But it’s such a silly tale to tell from someone who should care.

I know she’s sad, I’ve seen her cry but she wipes the tears away

Puts on our coats, picks up her bag and takes me out to play.

We go down to the park and she pretends that she’s alright

She shouldn’t really be like this, she looks a proper sight.

I wish they wouldn’t treat me like a child of three or four

I’m old enough to know that I won’t see him any more.

He’s gone, he’s dead, I realise I’ll not see him alive

I’m not too young to know the truth – I’m very nearly five.

Comments (2)

Posted by resistanceisfreedom 05-06-2008 12:12,   ... sad. having to cope with a loved ones death is such a hard task. and it's hard to hold yourself together knowing you'll never see them alive again. well done, rhyming flowed nicely.   » Report this comment to administrator » Reply to this comment...   Posted by philneale1952 05-07-2008 22:35,   Wishing Writeen through the supposed eyes on my son when his granddad passed away in 2001. He was nine at the time and took it quite badly. Pitching it at the age of five seemed to set a better scene though.   » Report this comment to administrator » Reply to this comment...

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