For a couple of years now, on the anniversary of the passing of my Nanna, I have dreamed of a fleeting moment with her, either just a glimpse or a few exchanged words. The first time it happened I wrote this poem, but it has happened again this year and I wonder if it is the time of year and its events that is knowingly sitting there in my subconsciousness or if, perhaps, just maybe, she does pay a little visit?
You came in just before I woke,
I saw you straight away,
“Hello Nanna, it’s you”, I said
But you didn’t look my way.
“Hello Nanna, it’s me”, I said,
as gently as I could,
and reached my arms about you
to hold you where we stood.
A marshmallow cheek so soft against mine
And your hands warm and smooth
Despite all this time.
But too soon I was stirred
by a voice sharp and quick
and you must have heard
my consciousness kick.
With eyes wide open I shut you out.