The Whits
Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested.
Travels with Grandad
Travels with Grandad
head cradled on folded arms
as a young boy I’d sit rapt
in the tales told by an old man
as he drew pictures at our dinner table
no bragging, not at all
just remembrances
of arid deserts and tuscan sunsets
heaving seas and emptying bellies
he saw the world
give or take
in six years
for king and country
back then I did not notice the pauses
how he never mentioned friends
eyes magnified through thick bifocals
searching some distant battlefield
he came home and got work in a mill
watched his wife die not long after
brought up three boys alone
but never grumbled, not at all