A gentle old soul

“Take your digger home with you,’ says Grandma.

He grabs it close. It’s what he wants to have and hold

From this day forth, forever & ever.

Grandma doesn’t need to be told.

“No,’ says his father. ’That’s too big on the bus.’

It’s a small digger, easily grasped by a toddler’s hand.

She runs beside the bus, waving to cheer him up.

Is he disconsolate?  No: he grins from Daddy’s grabber arms

Which are bigger than those of any digger.


Later she’s put away the digger and the books.

She wants to use the floor polisher but the cat

Is sitting on the mat and she won’t disturb him.

So, on hands and knees, with slow tired strokes,

As though swimming, she polishes round the mat with a cloth.

The cat eyes her hand like annoying prey

But it is just a lapping ocean froth

Around a privileged island with one standing Moai.



2 thoughts on “A gentle old soul

  1. Love the moai! And privileged is right! Not that I can talk, as I explain carefully that I’m only using the vacuum cleaner for 5 minutes, just to do the bits that show before the other grandparents arrive.

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