"Quiet thoughts"

by Lianne Olive Hennig  

Pom poms of confection on a biscuit stale;
Lemonade bubbles to inhale;
A colouring book, smelling musty;
And shelves of reading, getting dusty;
A music box with hinges broken
~ memories that were not spoken.

A garden, with a mermaid shell;
Playing with the front door bell;
Throwing berries from the trees, 
Betwigged grass beneath my knees;
Christ’s statue, with his poor nose broken
~ these were things that were not spoken.

Nanna’s hairy cheek on my cheek;
Swinging from tree boughs that creak;
Old dolls with their hair half gone;
Jam and cream upon a scone;
Toy beads and bangles, gifts, betoken
~ memories that were not spoken.

My mother’s spouse adopted me.
His mother was my Nanna Three
And, though she accepted what was to be,
It had seemed not with especial glee.
Yet now, within my mind has woken
Loving words which were not spoken.

It seems I loved my Nanna much, 
Although we didn’t keep in touch.
It had seemed as though we’d had our day
When I grew up and moved away,
But now the link is all-time broken
I long for all the words unspoken.

She died one day. I wasn’t there.
She probably thought I didn’t care,
But unfilled wishes fill my mind
And now I know I’ll never find
The time to utter words unspoken,
Now the feeble link has broken.

Standing by my Nanna’s grave,
Wishing I had nought to save
Of memories and thoughts unsaid:
Must I wait until I’m dead?
In my mind, I feel she’s spoken:
Keep the memories as a token.

An ageing house, a quiet street…
No more the pat of children’s feet.
In my mind, she is not dead.
My heart speaks things I had not said.
I feel ~ I feel she knows I’ve broken
The barrier which death may token.