THE VISIT

THE VISIT

         When I was at my first school
                I used to pass my grandmother’s house on the way home.
         Every day I called to see her
         and had a biscuit and a glass of milk.

         She would always ask about my day at school
         and loved to hear me recite a poem
         or read a passage from our reading book.

         Sometimes there would be long silences
         and then I was glad to get away
         and used to run up the road to our house.

         On my eighth birthday                    
                she was asleep in her chair beside the fire.
         On the table was my milk and a present wrapped in paper.

         I drank the milk quietly,
         took the present,
         and closed the door quietly as I went out.

         When I got home and told my mother
         she put her coat on and ran down the road
         as fast as her legs would carry her.

         I will never know whether I should have kissed her
         or tried to waken her
                I will always remember
                how happy she looked.