Author: Reena Saxena

Grandad was agitated.

He was pacing back and forwards, from one room to another. The whole time he was muttering to himself, “I’m sure I had them this morning. Now they have to be here.”

When we inquired as to what it was, he was looking for he exploded: “My glasses, I had them this morning, and now they’ve disappeared. Have you kids been hiding them again?”

Collectively we protested our innocence and began looking ourselves.

Pretty soon there was a major search on. Questions were asked: “where do you remember wearing them?” “What colour is the frame?” “Do you have a spare pair?”

The questions only infuriated him more. “I’ve got one pair, and without them, I’m as blind as a bat.”

We looked everywhere, the kitchen, the bathroom, his bedroom and no glasses could be found.

Feeling down about the whole business, we sat and pondered what to…

Today, I am delighted to welcome poet and blogger, Lorraine Lewis to Robbie’s inspiration. Lorraine blogs at https://blindwilderness.wordpress.com/ and shares some lovely and moving poetry.

A poem for my father

Through the mullioned windows I saw the sheep,

Illuminated by the sun,

As I gazed at them my spirit danced,

Then they disappeared behind the hill,

Now, again, all seemed dark,

I waited, hoping that they would come back.

To my delight they soon came back,

Huge was this flock of sheep,

When they returned it was no longer dark,

Again I could see the sun,

But they went again, behind the hill,

So I got on my feet and danced.

I remembered another dark day when I’d danced,

Though I knew he was not coming back,

With him I climbed that enormous hill,

Rugged, just as it was for the sheep,

I longed for him to see the…