On Clearing Out Human Granny's House
Us dogs can always sense when something is amiss.
Our noses can detect
Change in the air, the end of things, and sadness.
A lifetime of cupboards, emptied, yield
Pile upon pile of holiday leaflets; medicines galore;
A Nottingham lace tablecloth,
Still faintly stained with raspberry jam;
Notes from every evening class ever attended,
(And there were many).
Did Human Grandad once throw away
An item he could mend?
I doubt it.
No saucepan handle in this house
Escaped his meticulous application of araldite.
Was ever a rusty bolt discarded
When it could be stored in a Gold Block tobacco tin
For future use?
Who uses now
A 'best' china tea set (non-dishwasher proof)?
What to do with table linen - napkins, cloths, mats -
Lace or embroidered, stiffly starched,
Untouched for half a century?
*****
A sudden moment of delight.
A wad of letters, unknown, unsuspected,
Found in an old folder.
Close-typed on tissue thin airmail paper,
Stamped RAF, Egypt, 1945,
From a fond father
To the teenager who became Human Granny.
*****
But why will the charity shop not take
The painted furniture?
Can it really be so dangerous?
Surely some poor soul would be glad of it?
I lick Gail's hand to compensate
For tears shed, as Human Uncle
Builds a funeral pyre of tables, desks, chairs,
Unwanted but for the memories.
Us dogs can always sense when something is amiss.
