Grannie

I stayed with her when I was six then went 

To live elsewhere when I was eight years old.

For ages, I remembered her faint scent

Of lavender, the way she’d never scold

No matter what I’d done, and most of all 

The way her smile seemed, somehow, to enfold

My whole world like a warm, protective shawl.

I knew that I was safe when she was near,

She was so tall, so wide, so large, she would

Stand mountainous between me and my fear, Yet oh, so gentle, and she understood

Every hope and dream I ever had.

She praised me lavishly when I was good,

But never punished me when I was bad.

Years later war broke out and I became

A soldier and was wounded while in France.

Back home in hospital, still very lame,

I realised suddenly that circumstance

Had brought me close to that small town where she

Was living still. And so I seized the chance

To write and ask if she could visit me.

She came. And I still vividly recall

The shock that I received when she appeared

That dark cold day. Huge grannie was so small!

A tiny, frail, old lady. It was weird.

She hobbled through the ward to where I lay

And drew quite close, and, hesitating, peered.

And then she smiled: and love lit up the day.