Through the day's clutter
In idle moments
To distract myself
From the great grey elephant
Who is no longer in the room
I notice myself
Experiencing a new pleasure -

"Russia - a short history."
A book of black on white on red
Something reassuring about
The prison bars of text
Keeping time at bay.

At school I couldn't much relate
To history. Why would you bother?
To unravel distant mysteries of
One done thing after another...

But wars that once took place
A hundred lifetimes back or more
For every step I take away
Are closer than before.

History was one of Grandad's things
But now, the opposite is true
And much as I ignored it
It seems it's coming for me too:

Now I've a habit of my own
That comforts me in bed
I used to read the paper
Now it's history books instead
And perhaps I'm closer to him now
I'd chuckle if he said -  
*History's a place where no one dies
For they're all already dead.