TO A LATE LAST LOVE, a poem written by Grendad at



written by: Grendad


Of course we are afraid.
We carry what they tell us now is baggage
And in the bag they think we keep our rage,
That somewhere down the way we ditched our triumphs.

Well what about the times when we were brave
And faced the doubts and doubters to win through?
And what of all the courage that we gave
To friends and family and our lovers too?

Somewhere within that bag there is the prize
We won by standing firm and facing fear
Through long, black nights, afraid, alone and cold.
When no one cared how close we were to tears.

Tucked right inside a corner of the sack
Is that small pearl of wisdom that you spoke
Which helped somebody rise up from the rack
Of guilt and turn the tragedy to joke.

Do we need love less now we’re growing old?
Does laughter jar in heads now topped with grey?
Are all our values lost, or cheaply sold?
Shall we sit quiet through our remaining days?

NO. Sod them all and sod that silly sack.
Let’s keep our baggage packed with joy, and smile
As others talk of sacroiliac
This love will take us through our long last mile.

Of course we are afraid.
We know the pitfalls, heard the lies, got cheated.
But all the time we have now is our own
Keep tight hold lady, we shall go out flying.



From the luckiest, happiest of men.



I was one of four brothers working in the pit in spite of the fact that Dad had been killed at Bestwood pit in 1940 leaving six children.
A short piece of writing helped get me out of the pit after nine years working on the coal face.
I have been Chair of Malvern Writers' Circle and have two of my books selling on Amazon and various other sites.
Married at eighteen and widowed forty years later I came to Malvern and shortly after married a local woman who has made me the luckiest and happiest of men.

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