It’s hard to believe it has been seven years since we lost our beautiful boys, my grandsons Jacob and George. Granny remembers you and misses you every day.
On Sunday Josh and I had a Smugglers Adventure in Hastings. We’re collaborating on a Smugglers story and needed to do some research. This poem was inspired by our day out. I believe Josh’s cousins, Jacob and George were not too far away.
Jacob and George, now you are seven,
We wanted to ask, are there smugglers in Heaven?
Please can we smuggle you out for the day?
We’re going to Hastings, come with us to play.
Josh riding shotgun,
Jacob, scoot over,
There’s plenty of room,
Make space for your brother.
On the trip down the chat is football,
How Arsenal thrashed Watford two – nil.
You support QPR?
Let’s say no more…
Fishermen’s huts and smelly fish,
George is pinching his nose,
Jacob jumps from high sea wall,
We hold hands to cross the road.
Take selfies on the cliff railway,
East Hill boasts a splendid view.
But it’s West Hill that we want,
Who knew that there were two?
Hairy Jack tells a spooky tale,
The tunnels feel like sand.
Smuggler rattles door of gaol,
Josh covers ears with his hands.
Arcade claw and fishing game,
Tubs of two pence pieces.
Granite drops from giant crane,
Into the sea it splashes.
Throwing pebbles, do the floss,
Scrummy chips at Blue Dolphin.
Crazy golf, a hole in one,
Seagulls and trampolines.
Water bottle flips and Fortnite,
Merits of Switch v. PlayStation.
You’re tired now and, despite the fight,
It’s time to return you to Heaven.