by Steve Tanham
On this day
A meagre seven years ago
I woke to find you gone
A day premature
Just the nursing angel in your hand
The phone receiver in mine
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Now, at these times
I picture you in your old shop
Happy to leave your kitchen
For shop’s bell, whose call
To seek but not always to find
Mattered little, but sharing chat did
Then, happier, returning to your TV
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On these days
I miss you most
The simple routine of your day
Grown golden in my mind
Only seven years ago
And a million miles away
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©Copyright Stephen Tanham
I loved this Steve.
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Thank you, Pensivity. In memory of my father who died in 2011.
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Close to my heart having lost Mum last month and Dad in 1996. Our memories never die, and I am blessed with so many.
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Thank you.
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A fine example of that light we carry, so that it won’t go out.
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Thank you, Ken.
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A lovely tribute ❤
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Thank you, Alethea 😊
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Very moving, Steve.
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Thank you, Michael. February always brings back the memory…
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Yes, February for me too.
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A moment’s shared silence, then. And a thank you for their lives.
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Reblogged this on Stuart France.
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Pingback: On these days… Steve Tanham | Sue Vincent's Daily Echo
💜
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Thank you, Willow.
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Tender observations and reminiscences, beautiful, Steve.
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Thank you, Eliza. February always brings it back…
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Lovely work. I think a lot of poets try to force ‘pretty’ language into their work and it often ends up coming off purple. This is powerful, emotive simple language and works great.
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Thank you. That’s lovely.
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