I was born at the cemetery in Uttoxeter in 1970. My Nan and Granddad were the custodians back then. My aunty and sister were born there too. There was nothing strange about having a cemetery for a playground for us.
Anyway, memories and emotions bubbled up into my consciousness tonight .... so I had to write a poem of course, inspired by a childhood in a cemetery in Uttoxeter.
The Cemetery
Nan and Grandad
ran the cemetery
I was born there
in the 70s
I watched Grandad
digging graves with spades
by the Willow
weeping, where I played
I watched Nana
as she made the wreaths
with carnations
wired in holly leaves
Nana taught me
when the people go
there’s a flower
they once loved the most
And the living
every time they see
that one flower
blossoms memories
So I asked her
through my first new teeth
for a daisy chain
when she makes my wreath
And a tear
left her wrinkled eye
her lips pursing
as she forced a smile
I was small then
I did not know why
my old nana
kissed my cheek and cried
I am old now
like my nana then
Forty years
since I could pretend
Nana’s gone now
but she smiles still
every springtime
from each daffodil
Mark Bird
