I met him that Tuesday,
tearing myself from the sheets,
that encased the wounded,
tired, old and heavy body.

I stepped onto the,
cold ice like bathroom floor,
shivering, as if awoken,
from the deepest of slumbers.

Tracing the marks on my face,
the mirror told the tale,
of a loss of sleep through,
the evening night, to a new dawn.

As I dressed, I remembered that,
even his smile, embrace, shine in,
those amazing brown eyes, is
enough motivation to break the wave.

The darkest of clouds, haunting
me, from such a tender age,
always emerging when I, truly
needed to carry on with a smile.

The heavens opened, journey into
the lands of hills, nature, country
pubs, the ones you find in the midst
of unknown lands, a pub every mile.

I see his eyes glisten, in the brightness
of the light sun, and he smiles, he
moves from the car, and holds me
so tight I flinch, I force a longer embrace.

Lunch passes by, too quickly,
there is never enough, light, hours,
time in the day, as his tales told with,
words, run with such fluidity.

He can tell a thousand tales, to which
I will never tire, this man is one
of those greats, idiolising him,
I gain strength, reserve, courage.

Grandad, I love you more than,
I ever believed I could, someone,
so special, he barely knows himself.

Today, I want to thank you,
for without knowing, always,
and forever, supporting me.

The day you brought the sun flowers,
after that suicide attempt.
We never spoke of that fateful day.

I was drug induced when you came,
but I remember your smile,
embrace,
eyes,
and of course,
those delightful and all meaningful,
sunflowers.

They took such pride of place,
in that empty hospital room.

© Sia Jane