Been going through old emails and recovering old poems.
I wrote this to try and understand me a bit better after I had a dream about my grandparents.
So Far, so Close - 16 September 2006
To Harold and Mary, my Dad's parents
The day was bright, and warm of breeze
The family, had gathered round
To eat and drink, to share the tales
Each did have of, what life had brought
I looked around, to see them all
I found that they, were all from past
Of my young life, of my manhood
The folk I'd loved, that had gone on
All did speak plain, within my dream
No matter how, they spoke in life
The memories, were thick and true
From inside me, from deep in Well
All spoke of work, and love and birth
Their children grown, their children not
Of houses and, their gardens green
Of troubles that, they had gone through
They told me things; I thought I'd known
They told me things; I should recall
Of who and what, and meaning of
The Bond we shared, within ourselves
And after all, was said and done
Most faded out, just two remained
Grampa Harold, and Gramma May
Did sit me down, to share some time
Grampa Harold, a fathom tall
Had always seemed, so strong, so gruff
And Gramma May, her bonny face
A source of joy, and loving words
May, said Harold, why don't you speak,
You've always been, a better voice
A man of work, not words, I've been
Woman of home, and hearth, you are
So Gramma May, did speak to me
Stevie, grandson, you've grown so sad
From laughing babe, within our arms
And smiling tot, who loved flowers
A bright good boy, who chased the birds
A fine young youth who found his girl
A man who did, marry that girl
And stands by her, in everything
You've visited, and even called
You've shared your tales, and given time
But through it all, one thing stood out
You've always been, a lonesome soul
No matter how, close you have been
It seemed a part, of you was gone
To other climes, and other thoughts
It's known to us, and others, too
We think this weighs, upon your heart
For deep inside, you still remain
That little boy, who loved to share
His love of world, but not himself
I started to, speak back to them
But Gramma May, did hush me by
Putting finger, across my lips
And bid me to, listen fully
Do not take what, I say as hurt
This is just you, as you well know
So many things, are in your mind
And these you do, relate in words
What's in your heart, is kept so close
That in a room, with many friends
Only the shell, that looks like you
Is sitting there, reacts to them
Grampa Harold, then said to me
Your are a man, of long, good line
What Gramma says, refers to me,
Your Dad, my dad, and on to all
It's not a fault, but is a trait
That you should know, and keep in mind
For all of us, who share this thing
Have learned it, too, and done just fine
Then both did speak, in one clear voice
No matter how, distant you seem
Know this of us, we're there with you
Though lone you are, alone you're not
Take this from us, into the world
Learn how to be, within the room
When with your friends, you do gather
Know how to be, better in touch
Grampa Harold and Gramma May
Then did stand up, and faded fast
Leaving me as, I tried to ask
How to do this, not be a lone
And so the dream, faded to dark
I then woke up, to face the day
To face myself, and try to think
Of how to go, about changing
The day was bright, and warm of breeze
The family, had gathered round
To eat and drink, to share the tales
Each did have of, what life had brought
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