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For Grannie

A voice now so unsure
quiet and confused
But it led countless library storytimes
(they always loved hearing the word bum) 
shared ideas 
sang hymns

Eyes that now see things I can't
and not always what is there
Have selected beautiful works of art
watched children, grandchildren, great grandchildren grow 
Seen sights abroad and close to home 
just as beautiful 
and noticed more than their fair share of nice-looking young men.

I remember the real you.
The old toys and good books
The sugar cereals and special treats
(especially if you looked through the tins) 
The weekends and Keppoch summers 
spent almost entirely on the beach.

Never one to judge a book
until you had read it yourself.

We watched your change from a strong, confident woman 
to a frail, beautiful bird.

And now you've flown. 
But we'll remember.

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