Frosted Panes
When winter paints those frosty ferns on my windowpane
I find myself a little girl up on your lap again
In that old house, where you wove that coloured tapestry
With all the glorious memories of your life upon the sea
With weathered palm so deeply etched with every season past
You rubbed a porthole in the centre of the frosted glass
Where outside in splendour lie a winterwonderland
As halos rose above your head from a pipe bowl in your hand
And there upon a rocking chair as smoke rings filled the air
We rocked across a sea of dreams wind tangled in our hair
To lands I’d never been before we stepped upon those shores
And through your eyes I saw each one and still I wanted more
The morning passed in dreams between two pairs of eyes of green
As the world outside held its breath in a sea of snowy cream
And when the chill of winter melted from the windowpane
The whistling kettle on the stove brought us home again
You held my hand and looked at me with that twinkle in your eyes
And told me you would be my Captain 'til the day I died
So when winter paints those frosty ferns on my windowpane
I find myself a little girl up on your lap again
When winter paints those frosty ferns on my windowpane
I find myself a little girl up on your lap again
In that old house, where you wove that coloured tapestry
With all the glorious memories of your life upon the sea
With weathered palm so deeply etched with every season past
You rubbed a porthole in the centre of the frosted glass
Where outside in splendour lie a winterwonderland
As halos rose above your head from a pipe bowl in your hand
And there upon a rocking chair as smoke rings filled the air
We rocked across a sea of dreams wind tangled in our hair
To lands I’d never been before we stepped upon those shores
And through your eyes I saw each one and still I wanted more
The morning passed in dreams between two pairs of eyes of green
As the world outside held its breath in a sea of snowy cream
And when the chill of winter melted from the windowpane
The whistling kettle on the stove brought us home again
You held my hand and looked at me with that twinkle in your eyes
And told me you would be my Captain 'til the day I died
So when winter paints those frosty ferns on my windowpane
I find myself a little girl up on your lap again
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In loving memory of my Dear Papa 'Captain
James George'
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Authors Note:
When I was a child of three, I went to
live for a year with my Grandparents in Nova
Scotia. At that time, my Grandfather was a
retired Sea Captain of a Three Mast
Schooner. He had spent most of his life at
sea, taking lumber and coal to New
Brunswick and various ports in the U.S.
and in the winter months, would carry on to
pick-up and deliver cargo in the West
Indies. Although my time with him was short,
the memories we shared have comforted me
through-out the years.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Born in New Brunswick, Elaine
George spent the early years of her life living in Lorneville (a small fishing
village along the Bay of Funday) still inhabited by many of her family
members. Much of her writing is inspired
by the memories of that place and those wonderful people. She has published two volumes of poetry and
is currently writing a novel entitled Out of the Darkness. Many of her poems and short stories have
appeared in magazines in both Canada and the United States. Currently she lives
with her husband in Wainfleet, Ontario.
Elaine,
ReplyDeleteI just loved your poem, the loving story of your and your Grandpa capturing me from the start. " You rubbed a porthole in the center of the frosted pane"--so apt for your sea caption Grandpa. The rhyme is delightful and the poem lovely. Thank you for sharing it.
Elaine,
ReplyDeleteIt sounds like you had a great time with your grandfather reminds me of my paternal grandparents as I never knew my mom's parents having lost my grandmother on that side when I was 1 and never knowing my grandfather on that side, as he died when my Mom was 19 in a taxi-cab accident. Welcome to Whispers!
Your new friend,
David Fox
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteA tribute of love Elaine,nice to read such quality again.(I am now into poetry aloud 'as is moments' on youtube under my pen name ichthyschiro) regds Brian
ReplyDeleteLovely poem which deserves many re-readings, be sure you must enshrine so happy memories forever; little of us have so memorable ones like yours. Thanks for sharing it at Whispers.
ReplyDelete