My deceased grandfather talked to me,
sitting with his ankles crossed as always,
the way all his offspring sit, including me.
He sat in front of his house, as usual.
However, his voice, a bit hoarse,
made no sense. He shook his head.

Being dead makes communication difficult
but then again, I don’t remember
any conversation I had with him
when he was alive, so I enjoyed his effort.
He raised his thumb, as in a Like.
Maybe the afterlife is Face Book based.


Comments on: "Like" (12)

  1. I love this.

    Deep meaning together with a sense of humour.

    Much love

    • Thank you very much David πŸ™‚

      I think I must have picked up a bit from the way you write.

      Much love

  2. In dreams, the dead return to finish a thought, to clarify, or just to schmooze. Lovely poem.

  3. Not so much an after-life, more an after-IRL.

  4. I remember granddad – he gave me more than my father ever did…

    • Hi John,

      that is a good memory I think.
      My grandfather was already old. I remember him and my grandmother singing church songs when I walked in the room and they didn’t stop, so I sang along with them. A bit of a Sound of Music moment.

  5. I loved the line at the beginning of the second verse. Right up my street, and gave a nice big smile. As others have said. Full of resonance mixed withy humour

  6. A tongue-in-cheek but heartfelt remembrance, Ina! XO

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