My door is always open
My kettle is always on
I’m here with a shoulder
For you to cry upon

You can tell me anything
Your secrets I can keep
You can phone me anytime, day or night
Even when I am asleep

If you live in solitude
Or your heart is filled with grief
If you suffer from low self-esteem
I can build your self-belief

I am everybody’s rock
But who is there for me?
Who cares for the carer?
I think you will agree

The more you do for others,
The less they do for you
It's the way society is now
But that is just my view.

What shall we do today?
Now the nest is empty
Not as much washing to do
When the kids lived at home there was plenty

Shall we go out for a meal?
A two-for-one meal deal will do
Instead of the usual bargain bucket
Which would feed a slew

Chicken wings and coleslaw and fries
And a large tub of chocolate ice-cream
Drew would eat more than his fair share
His love of fast food was extreme

When we get home from the restaurant
I'll look in the boys bedroom door
And i'll think how bare the carpet looks
With no discarded clothes on the floor

I'll lie in the bed and think
That the house is far too quiet
And think of when the kids were here
Music blaring and running riot

I feel a sense of loss
And feelings of rejection
I'm laid here with my loving spouse
But I feel a disaffection

I think that what we had is gone
I'm starting to wonder whether
Our children living at home
Were the glue that kept us together

My Grandmother's Hands

My Grandmother's hands told many tales
Of scrubbing steps and broken nails
Hand-washing clothes in enamel sink
Red football socks turned white towels pink

When not baking cakes at the old gas stove
Rag-rugs with old scraps of material she wove
Pantry shelves filled with powdered egg
Homemade rice pudding sprinkled with nutmeg

Sea-coal burning on an open coal fire
Bread on a toasting fork burning like a pyre
Grandma plumping up pillows from beneath granda’s head
Applying ointment to sores caused by being confined to bed

Hours spent at auctions bidding with her hand
Buying an incomplete bed wasn't what she planned
Back home in time for tea, crumpets and homemade strawberry jam,
I can still recall the smell of it, bubbling in the pan

Switching tv channels with a flick of her wrist
That’s how we did it back then, when remotes did not exist
Working hard all of her life, meeting everyone's demands

Every line and wrinkle told a story
On my Grandmother's hands