Saturday morning, making chocolate clusters,

And you with chocolate

All smeared around your rosy mouth,

Looking very comical

Turned to me and said,

 

‘Will your body

Come back again, Grannie,

After you are dead?’

 

‘No, not this body,’ I reply,

Putting a cluster

Neatly shaped,

Upon the baking tin between us.

‘But I’ll be around all right,

Hovering somewhere, laughing with you,

Feeling quite near

As Grandpa does with me.’

 

Your thoughts had very nearly

Moved elsewhere but, satisfied,

‘That’s OK’ you said.

 

Ruth Fawell, 1976