Granddad’s House

Grandad’s House

They’re tearing it down, my old granddad’s house,
evicting the snails and the resident mouse.
I took one last look,– just a few weeks ago,–
it wasn’t long after a light fall of snow.
But my body felt warm and my heart beat real fast,
when, to a long-gone era, my mind was cast.

On shelves in the pantry rows of pickling jars,
the platter used for carving that held the scars.
The lovely crock chicken full of newly laid eggs,
the muddy red tiles where the dog sat and begged
for his bone-shaped biscuits and nice leathery chews,
next to dear old granddad’s brown gardening shoes.

The marble slab was eternally cold,
the old rolling pin that Grandma would hold
while flattening the pastry for her apple pie,
not long on the plate and not long on the eye.
The little mesh window was opposite the door,
and enamel white flour bin sat on the floor.

Out in the scullery, the hot copper sat,
next to a steel bucket, below Granddads hat
With the Belfast sink always sparkling white,
and the big green mangle to squeeze those sheets tight,
I can see Gran at the sink giving clothes a scrub,
but more stubborn garments went into the tub.

In the nice warm parlour Grandma’s rag – made rug
ensured that Granddad was as snug as a bug;
Ever boiling kettle on the black lead grate,–
so any nice visitors didn’t have to wait,
for homemade cake and a cup of PG tips–
a moment in the mouth, a lifetime on the hips!

The front room was best and the flooring brand new,
the cold damp corner where the aspidistra grew.
Tins of ready cash on the mantle shelf,
waiting for the rent man, who would help himself.
Photos of family hung from the picture rail
in Nan’s best room where she’d always regale.

Up winding stairs to the bedroom above,
each creaking stair holds a memory of love.
I stare through the window, across to the town,
kneel on the bed and the feather eiderdown;
I can feel the warmth as I’m lying here,
snuggling between my grandparents so dear.

I make my way down with a tear in my eye.
I’m still reminiscing of great times gone by.
My dear Gran and Granddad are now laid to rest,
and now I’m a Granddad, with Grandchildren blessed.
I turn – look behind me, as I hear a sigh-
was that my dear Grandparents whispering goodbye?