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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
About a guy that misses the nostalgia of youth at his Grandparents house...

Submitted: July 24, 2011

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Submitted: July 24, 2011




I miss coming down the stairs in the morning at my Nan's house

To the smell of tea and burning toast

I miss the mid morning bath 

And mash with my roast

I miss my Grandad cutting the front and back grass with shears

I miss the evening bonfire

And sitting on the back step

Stripping the sleeves off copper wire

I miss not being able to get in the locked shed

And when I did breaking something he'd had for years

I miss sneaking my Nan's fags

And drinking Grandad's secret stash of beers

I miss going through his 'hidden' page 3 pics

And blankets on our laps when it was cold

I miss taking it in turns to sit by the fire

And going to bed at nine like I'm old

I miss coffee they made with condensed milk

And boxes of biscuit 'bits' that were stale

I miss taking the bottles back for a refund

And four people bathing and sharing one towel

I miss the cheaper brands of everything

'Cos it never really mattered

I miss nipping to the shop to get my Nan a Walnut Whip

And how she always made out she was flattered

I miss Nan mimicking starlings at the breakfast table

And that Summer smell that only exists when you're a kid

I miss tea towels as bibs

And my Grandad's War stories and the woodbines that he hid

I miss hearing my Nan singing Music Hall songs when she washed up

She was never much of a singer

I miss grandad with his sleeves rolled up

Putting wet washing through the ringer

I miss the way he snored really loud and then stopped

And how he read the paper with a magnifying glass

I miss the egg timer to prevent wasting hot water

I miss the old photos, the ornaments and imitation brass

I miss the portable black and white telly

I miss Nan's ceramic shire horse and cart

I miss Grandad shouting everytime there was a bang

And my Nan shouting 'don't you bloody start'

I miss painting the whole house inside the same colour 

I miss Palmolive soap and Polytar liquid shampoo

I miss pretending to shave with his brush and soapstick

And almost tearing my face in two

I miss my Grandad's teeth in a half pint glass

And Nan's ritual 2 hour cooking of greens

I miss the way she sometimes wore two dresses and trousers underneath

And my Grandad's far too big jeans

Above all I miss the happiness and innocence

I miss all the brilliant years we had

I really miss my Nan

And I really miss my Grandad

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