Your Poetry Dot Com

Array ( [sid] => 159411 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Nana [time] => 2010-05-01 05:10:01 [hometext] => A poem about saying what you feel before it's too late. [bodytext] =>

I go home as I sometimes do now,
to be social- to see the change.
Waving at the same old neighbours,
careful that I don't get chained.

I'm reminded of infant days gone,
in your kitchen- that humming fridge.
Now I see you and you're the small one.
Can’t help but notice that your face is getting thin

I long to hear you but you make no sense now.
I wish for quiet as you’re moaning on.
I look to mother, she can’t see what I can.
She smiles as she pours your tea.

Will I get the chance to say it?
Do I even want to hear the word?
I want you to know you are valued,
I should have said it when you understood.

Praying for a moment just to touch you-
let you know that I remember your grace.
So I do as the cups are clattered,
your cloudy eyes fix on my face.

I like to think that you get my meaning.
I think you do so I hold your hand.
I feel the softness of its wrinkled flesh
and I remember when you held mine. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 194 [topic] => 21 [informant] => Debris [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Nana

Nana
Date: Saturday, 1st May 2010 @ 05:10:01 AM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: Debris

I go home as I sometimes do now,
to be social- to see the change.
Waving at the same old neighbours,
careful that I don't get chained.

I'm reminded of infant days gone,
in your kitchen- that humming fridge.
Now I see you and you're the small one.
Can’t help but notice that your face is getting thin

I long to hear you but you make no sense now.
I wish for quiet as you’re moaning on.
I look to mother, she can’t see what I can.
She smiles as she pours your tea.

Will I get the chance to say it?
Do I even want to hear the word?
I want you to know you are valued,
I should have said it when you understood.

Praying for a moment just to touch you-
let you know that I remember your grace.
So I do as the cups are clattered,
your cloudy eyes fix on my face.

I like to think that you get my meaning.
I think you do so I hold your hand.
I feel the softness of its wrinkled flesh
and I remember when you held mine.

This poem is Copyright ยฉ Debris

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