The Charity Shop Poem by Debbie Cook

I walk around the charity shop
and I'm taken right back.
Random treasures on the shelves,
holding pieces of the past.
My chest feels warm as
the memories start to flow.
You and Grandpa are still here,
I'm a child again in your bungalow.
The Kellogg's bowls for breakfast
after staying overnight,
the plates you served our dinners on,
each meal pure delight.
Your dinners were the best,
especially your stew.
I've still never had one like yours,
and don't think I ever will.
I remember your collection
when I see a thimble or two,
souvenirs from our travels
that we'd always gift to you.
I see a game of bingo,
and inside my ear,
I hear you calling out the numbers
the memory so clear.
A game of Happy Families,
a random deck of cards,
memories of Christmas,
playing games of charades.
I remember playing Newmarket
and Chase the Ace too,
the sound of you tutting
as the ace passed to you.
The ornaments with segments,
a firm favourite with my children.
They'd grab out the pieces
then go on the run.
I'd chase them in panic
as they squealed with delight.
You'd tut, and they'd giggle,
their eyes shining bright.
I next see the books
and I'm reminded of when
the kids would sit on your lap
as you read stories to them.
I am suddenly hit
by shared feelings of grief,
as I realise these treasures
hold another's rest in peace.
But after all these years on,
the memories still live,
of the warmth and the care
you would always give.
I am grateful for these memories,
appearing so clearly.
I wish I could tell you,
I miss you both dearly