Pop

by Rachel Bostock

I remember you 

Vaguely

I see you in my memory

Sitting in your chair

Looking down at me

You would blink so slow

I thought it funny then,

how slowly your eyes would open and close

Back then I didn’t know

you were fighting sleep

You’d tell me the same story every visit:

“People without arms 

still paint incredible pictures 

by holding the brush in their mouth”

Perhaps you were telling me

creation knows no bounds

I wish that I could know you now

And play you a tune.

Instead I hold these memories 

So precious, so few 

The faded lens of a child’s view 

Author's note:

This poem is a reflection on my grandfather. He sadly passed away when I was just 6 years old. I have few memories of him, but I dearly loved him. My Mum told me he had played the violin, and though I never saw or heard him play, knowing this greatly inspired me to learn myself. Remembering my Pop I am reminded of the impact a person can have on our lives, regardless of how little time we were given with them. 6 years is not a lot in the grand scheme of life, and yet it was enough for me to still feel connected to him to this day. I'd love to hear how this poem connected with you? Feel free to leave a comment below

RB x