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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Personal · #2192128
A poem about my grandad.
We drank tea together
in the middle of the night
two lost people
like to lost ships
a metaphor he would appreciate.

A connection was forged
in our insomnia,
we’re both sitting on trauma
we’ve been given no chance to talk about.

Except to each other.

Which we don’t.

I know nothing of war,
though he knows
about lying awake in fear
which is how we found ourselves here.

I like to think I made a difference
he certainly did.
We passed the time
we relaxed. We were safe.
It’s all we really wanted.

It’s been a decade now
every cup of tea past midnight
is a warm reminder.

r.l.w
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2192128