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Sunday, October 22, 2017

Memory Lane

Clearing the bed on which I sleep
Of much clutter left in a heap
I saw the ornate double doors
Which, like a gem, hide two small drawers, treasure safekeep
***
They're part of the old jewelry box,
The kind you couldn't find in shops,
Made with love by my grandfather
With old yet dexterous fingers which never stopped
***
Seeing it takes me back in time
Thirty five odd years, in my prime,
When innocence was still allowed
Imagination not yet cowed, covered in grime
***
I miss my Grandpa's loving soul
He was just a hard-working prole
Plunging, every day of his life
Into the mine; back to his wife coated in coal
***
Yet he knew our hearts to nurture
Took me on walks, taught me nature
To enjoy, he was strict but fair
Days went slowly by, offered their simple pleasures
***
He told me stories, of the war
Of the mine, gave us simple chores:
Picking wild berries or mushroom,
While learning the name of each bloom, hiking the moor
***
My mind with nostalgia is rife
His walk, his face, his smile, his laugh
Are all inscribed deep in my soul
"To Grandpa, for life our model"  his epitaph
***
To this day, I miss him dearly
From him I learnt tenacity
Resilience, love, caring et all
Everyday hero, my angel, eternally
***
Today's OctPoWriMo's prompt was purposeful passion, a hero's journey. I hadn't had time to try my hand at one of the forms suggested earlier in the month, so decided to give it a go today, when I had few responsibilities. This form is called a florette.
I started writing about my own journey, but I'm getting bored of writing about me. I mean, there is more to life on this Earth than me and my story. And then I saw that old jewelry box that I had thought lost for decades (we'd moved so many times). To see it again sent back memories anew of my dear Grandpa.
Today, he walked by my side all day.

3 comments:

Thanks for sharing your thoughts.

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