Millennium

Free verse poem in honour of Mabel - The Nan, the legend that she was.

When I grow up I want to be just like you
stood awe struck
stepped-up a fragile half-foot; on the
bottom-rung of the splinter-wood
fence separating terraced street from towpath.
Gnarled knuckled hands gripped
to the knotted-wood top-rail;
still not rotten after all these years
stood-firm in the same weather.
Trusting your limbs old friends,
to take the weight of your 91 years.
And your face: mouth a-gape;
head flung back to nape;
like a child catching rain;
you stand watching
the one thing
you never thought you'd live to see.
Amazed.
As fireworks burst
the night apart
and light up my family;
your legacy,
I am grateful for
your shelter.
No rain today.