After the grandkids leave

I have just read the most beautiful and spot-on poem. It’s by Robert Hamberger and is published in this week’s Spectator magazine.

After the Grandkids Leave

Yes I’m a wet dish-rag, but let me be
wrung out by four cries again. Eight days
isn’t enough. Is my life this free,
this quiet, without them? Every room says
Where are they? as I unpeel pillowcases
strip sheets, with no one to interrupt,
no shout or song, no squabbles or races
down the hall, no call to be carried, to erupt
into my arms, and when they’re lifted
how the years swing back: that sleepy
squirmy weight of my kids has shifted
against my chest. I’ll carry them home. We
might make it right this time - no guilt, no
mistakes. I’ll wash the bedclothes tomorrow.


Such a lovely poem! Although eight days might be enough. :-)