Only a slap

Dad had left the mill early, mum said,And I must be quiet, she insisted –For your grandad has died.But I knew nothing of the nothingGrandad had becomeAnd I only cried when I was hurt.I remember that I was practisingA song on the piano for my dad.He was a singer, a baritone.We were never very close, but I lovedTo hear him sing - although, I never told him.Sixty years has passed since thenBut I have always remembered the song -A German song: Muss i den.We did not know then that Elvis PresleyWould make it famous as Wooden Heart.

The back door to the kitchen openedAnd I turned around to follow my mumAs she opened the inner door to that room.I was just behind her, when she stopped,Turned around and slapped her handHard against my chest - slamming the doorFrom the other side, leaving me,Standing, still, by myself -And then the sound of my dad, weeping.

She was thinking, naturally, of my dadAnd his grief – it was such a blow.But it took me a long time to realiseThat a heart can be bruised, as well as broken.