My Grandma

My Grandma smelled of cinnamon,
Her cheeks were dappled brown,
She tutted at my Grandad when
He tried to act the clown.

My Grandma had big bosoms,
She was gentle and serene,
She made jam roly poly and
Her clothes were always clean.

My Grandma was quite tolerant,
She understood my faults,
She clapped when I did handstands and
Attempted somersaults.

My Grandma had arthritis and
Her legs were shapeless stumps,
And on the dinner table was
A bowl of sugarlumps.

My Grandma used to tell me how
The Germans bombed her street,
She wore a woolly cardigan
And slippers on her feet.

My Grandma taught me dominoes,
She taught me etiquette,
And how, in certain circles, it
Was impolite to sweat.

My Grandma played piano with
A fluent, easy air,
She used to make remarks about
The state of Grandad’s hair.

My Grandma had good china and
It rarely left the shelf,
When she forgot a birthday, she’d
Be angry with herself.

My Grandma sometimes came along
When we went to the beach,
She’d sit upon a rock and stay
Out of the water’s reach.

My Grandma was a lady,
Yet she had a common touch,
Her smile was warm and real and
I miss her very much.