The Comeback Kid

Wrinkled hands dance timeless clasped,

in loves familiar melodies,

monochrome photos revisited,

coloured, treasured memories.

A Grandad's calloused hands fold sharp,

A stellar paper plane.

A grandma's polished nails perfect,

deft delicate daisy chains.

Dad's shoulder carries to the sky,

an invincible emperor make,

Mum's hands clean floury fingers,

for the buttered scones you bake.

Grass stained knees, sweet cups of teas

and passed down favourite recipes.

Christmas tree buying, floored kite flying,

Being tickled close to dying.

Visits to the grave, memories laid, not grave,

these satiate pleasures - never gone.

A daughter grown, alone, to her own.

will pass these cherished rituals on.

Her son, in dens of sticks and leaves,

In bubble bath beards and lion's manes,

Kites, skimmers, somersaults and planes,

She's free, like a child again.

Stories under covers, board games

and smiles that last for hours,

Bumps and grazes healed with kisses

of a mother's magical powers.

All the love of generations,

adorned, reborn anew.

Then like herself. The years melted

and this comeback kid grew.

Now, this grandma plants songs like daisies,

Hides simple treasures to be sought,

A son's strong hand guides

his children in the lessons he was taught.

These family legacies of love.

becomes a generations art,

To embrace a childhood's wonder,

and be a comeback kid at heart.