Gone
I held you when you were one hour old,A tiny heartbeat resting on my chest,
Your fingers curling round my thumb,
As I brushed away a quiet tear,
And whispered that you were safe,
From that moment, little one,
You were my granddaughter,
And somehow my best friend,
Two titles stitched together,
Like the softest patchwork of love,
We wandered through woods,
Where the trees knew your laughter,
And along the beach,
Where the waves tried to chase your toes,
We sang in the car, loud and off‑key,
Turning every journey into a concert,
We painted worlds,
No one else could see,
Bright colours spilling from your hands,
As if you were made of imagination itself,
We drew pictures that felt like magic,
And we always knew each other’s mind,
Without needing words,
We laughed at Peppa Pig,
Until our sides hurt,
Shared sweets like tiny treasures,
And when you fell asleep on the sofa,
I carried you to bed,
As though you were made of moonlight,
I cradled you past the dinosaurs
In the museum,
Huge bones towering above us,
While you held on tight,
Trusting me completely,
Now you are eighteen,
Standing at the edge of your own life,
And I am only a memory,
Tucked somewhere in your heart,
Me with a hollow ache,
Where your childhood used to be,
You with a whole world,
Waiting in front of you,
Go well, my girl, my best friend,
Walk bravely,
Live loudly,
And may every step,
Be warmed by the love,
I carried for you,
From the very first hour.
Poetry by JohnJohn
Read 95 times
Editors' choiceWritten on 2026-07-01 at 12:39
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Albert Vynckier |
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Griffonner |
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jim |
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Melinda K Zarate |
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