My father's grandma died in 1917


An envelope with black borders came


Mom is dead, and I don't have a black dress”

my grandma cried


You can borrow mine”, said a neighbour woman


My father, born in 1904,

passed in 1992


I visited him at the hospital

where he lay a couple of weeks

at the end

He was already unconscious when I came


Then I was called in after he died


My son, seven years old, waited in the rented car

down below in the hospital lot


He couldn't bear meeting his dead Grandpa


Some years earlier, in 1989,

I interviewed Dad on tape

He was a very good storyteller

and gave me lots of inside information

from his long life,

after later transfer amounting to three full CDs


I hear him talk, breathe, and light his pipe

now and then,

mostly from the Cloud,

though I keep the CDs up on the shelf too


When the Soviets launched their Sputnik

in October 1957,

Daddy and I went out into a field at night,

throwing our heads back,

searching the skies,

and yes, we spotted the moving star

across the heavens


Dad had allowed himself a rare drink

That almost never happened,

but he felt the significance of the moment


He held my little hand out there in the dark

and laughed as the Sputnik passed


Poetry by Ingvar Loco Nordin The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 101 times
Written on 2023-03-04 at 09:34

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