Seen But Not to be Heard
Recollecting polished rosewood
Some decades now slipped by
Silver hairpins grace the table
In a tangled heap they lie
Stiff hands reach out to find them
Blue-blotched and veined the skin
"Do you see where I've put them?"
Her voice strains, cracked and thin
Black dress both worn and crinkled
It's seen much better days
Her face much lined and wrinkled
Eyes blue but partly glazed
She shuffles and skirts bside me
Too young, in years am I
Not wise enough to comprehend
That sight can also die
Too shy by far to answer back
With hindsight, I suppose
To tell Great Granny that her pins
Were underneath her nose
Recollecting polished rosewood
Some decades now slipped by
Silver hairpins grace the table
In a tangled heap they lie
Stiff hands reach out to find them
Blue-blotched and veined the skin
"Do you see where I've put them?"
Her voice strains, cracked and thin
Black dress both worn and crinkled
It's seen much better days
Her face much lined and wrinkled
Eyes blue but partly glazed
She shuffles and skirts bside me
Too young, in years am I
Not wise enough to comprehend
That sight can also die
Too shy by far to answer back
With hindsight, I suppose
To tell Great Granny that her pins
Were underneath her nose