Your hair had turned to silvery grey,
Your hands were old and wrinkled,
But your eyes still held that sparkle,
When you smiled,
I saw them twinkle.
You so loved to sit in your easy chair,
And take me back to your days,
When you were young,
When your life was fun,
And I'd listen,
Over and over again,
Making you believe,
That your stories,
Were, the first time to be told,
For your memory wasn't the same as it was,
Your excitement began to unfold,
How you loved to tell me,
About those days of your life,
And I would sit and listen,
As your smile shone out so bright,
If there's only one memory,
I may keep,
It's you sitting there on your chair,
It's a memory I'll hold forever,
Just listening to you,
Right there x
Jayne Louise Davies
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem