Grandpa

Grandpa looked like a fat old walrus
with his scruffy furry moustache
chin-ward droopy, like yellowed tusks.
Gnarled hands grasp an aged spade;
booted foot poised mid air
to dig a spit of earth for victory
several sepia generations ago.

The photograph creased but still precious
lay in my wrinkled palm,
a piece of long lost history
joyfully rediscovered in an old tin box.
Fragmented memories twinkle tentatively
through a flaky crumble of cracks
of a now disintegrated wall
of forgetfulness to dazzle and delight.

The aroma of old English humbugs,
a hairy goosegog proffered between muddy fingers
and popped into an unsuspecting mouth
to be spat out with a shudder of disgust!
A lusty laugh.

A tweaked nose, held by forefinger and thumb,
a peek-a-boo game from behind the rocking chair,
a shoulder ride to the village to buy
an accumulator for the wireless,

One last sticky kiss on
his old man’s grey face,
as he lay on his deathbed
strategically placed by the parlour fire
to comfort his last earthbound hours.

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VMM2008