Thanks again, This is how it looks at night, I wrote a short poem to go with your work:
Nana heard the news.
My Nana rarely speaks these days,
But is content in her predictable ways, ornamental memories surround the fire place reminders of her younger days,
Wrapped around her like a comfortable shawl, are her Precious possessions, acquired over the years.,
Sat In her favourite chair, she remembers being young again, she sits alone with her memories, by the Parlour fire.
Sitting fondly on her lap and protecting it with all her love, Is an opened Taylors of Harrogate, Typhoo tea tin, her most precious photographs are kept safe within,
In her hand she holds a print, a cherished image from her past.
Nana sighs heavily, a print slips to the floor,
I retrieve the print, upon looking I see, my beautiful Nana young at 23,
Dressed in her Sunday finery, complete with veil and hat,
She link’s a tall handsome young chap, donned in smart suit, moustache and flat cap.
They pose in front of a beautifully designed glass building,
Exotic plants within, which stands near the entrance to our park,
Nana has stood alone in this same place, wistfully staring into space, many times over the years.
“I’m so sorry Nana” I say,
That building must hold many memories for you.
“Its strange” Nana said, as she shook her head, “Bert and me
always thought it’s destruction would come from overhead in 1943”
Fingers crossed!!
