Granddad had a front room
full of treasures
to your child's eyes
from paintings of Madonnas
or other holies
to bowls of fruit
filling the room
with that applely smell
and vases
of all colours
and shapes
and only opened up
when Gran opened
the door on the way through
to the lounge
where your granddad sat
or when you managed
to steal a moment alone
while the elders
where busy
you opened the door
and gazed around
the room like
an Aladdin's cave
the statues of spaniel dogs
or wiry cats
your ears listening
for the voices of the others
from the lower part
of the house
waiting in the doorway
your eyes wide
taking it all in
right down
to the smell of fruit
that filled the room
the half light
the dark shade
where another world
seemed to begin or end
until on hearing
your parent's voice
or Granddad's call
echoing along the hall.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem