GRANDFATHERED

It was always there

Above the kitchen cupboards

That decked the walls.

It dwarfed silly china

Ducks or swans

That I cannot remember now.

A bottle of Black and White –

Two little Scottie dogs

That enchanted me,

And they still do.

It was half full,

That’s how it seemed to me.

Half empty my grandmother said.

It was your grandfather’s tipple,

So it’s probably cold tea.

He’d surely have drained it

And disguised his crime.

Anyway, he’s not here to confess.

I was so small.

I could not reach it.

I’m still trying to climb

High enough to enjoy it.