The Moon

My Nanna was the Moon,
Not the sun because my Mum has always been the sun
But the Moon, living on her own side of the universe
Her beams lighting up a darkened room

My Nanna was; perfectly coiffed hair & an impractical heel
A voice; outspoken, ahead of her days

My Nanna was a house full of pictures of smiling faces
The wisest old hand stroking mine, saying
‘he doesn’t deserve you’

My Nanna was a ‘yooohoooo’ through the front door
& a freshly baked Bonnag.

Re-runs of Inspector Morse,
The smell of talcum powder
Teacups that always smelt like perfume

My Nanna was stories,
Some never told, some told so often I could say them in my sleep.

Her laughter,
Endless energy; ‘I’m Fine’
Then a nap on the sofa after tea

A slow foxtrot around the kitchen
A bird bath covered in tiny birds
Pink wafer biscuits on a small china plate

‘We didn’t have that in the war’

She was an opal glittering in the sunlight
A child’s fluffy duck singing Old MacDonald

My Nanna was the moon.

‘Moon River
Wider than a mile
I’m crossing you in style
Some day
Oh Dream Maker
You Heart Breaker
Wherever you’re going
I’m going your way
Two drifters off to see the world
There’s such a lot of world to see
We’re after the same rainbow’s end
Twisting round the bend
My huckleberry friend
Moon River & Me’

1 thought on “The Moon”

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