A Morning Spent in Bed

The following was written as a tribute to my maternal Grandmother for her 80th Birthday and was later read at her funeral. It aims to capture her essence, a moment of her life and the things she loved. Not quite a poem, more an ode!


A cup of strong tea in bed lists dangerously as Charlie is manoeuvred lovingly towards a kiss. Old letters mingle with the new, opened and read. Granny sits like a queen in bed, with myopic Charles an unlikely king, who growls quietly to himself as Granny distractedly massages his head.

There is nothing to match a morning spent in bed, from a comfortable spot between lavender sheets, warm from a night’s sleep. No disturbances or demands just yet. And the birds can be heard in the garden, from the open window where a light breeze shifts the curtain, casting a dapple of light over the bed.

Charlie snores, spread-eagled and large at the end of the bed, a feathery paw lying on top of the Parish Gazette. Enveloped by pillows, Granny sits back, and breathes in deeply…and out again, filled with meditative thoughts. What can one buy for the boy’s birthday, such a darling, and mustn’t forget a card.

Upright again. Charlie opens an eye, idly contemplating a walk. But, earning an affectionate murmur of ‘Cheels Waals’ instead, through teeth clenched with love, it occurs to him to settle for the thought.

As Granny reaches for a pen, a tiny avalanche is caused at the side of the bed, narrowly avoiding an upset with the ink. Distracting for a moment, and mindful of a new day, a sprig of blossom sits perkily in a vase. Shall we get up?

No. Not quite yet. What do you think?……Perhaps another cup of tea and a biscuit for Charles.

* * *

Copyright SR Parker


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