My grandmother loved the radio. I find now that I do too.

Detached not distant. Not at all.

From whomever the words come

she accepts warmly and shall

feast on conversation’s hum.


She falls asleep and will wake

to information; the news, pips

hourly, the weather. The break

of day, breakfast, school trips.


As much company as anything

and loyal friend; reliable, ready

to silence silence, from silence sing,

assuring her the ship is steady.


In time she may not fully listen

to every word. It matters none.

The voice itself serves to christen

the new day and is work well done.


Other opportunities arise

to tune in. The dial is alight

at arm’s length and contact’s prize

shortens roads late at night.


And what of the voice’s source?

What mouth might make mention

and features yield to discourse?

Who is it holding her attention?


Ultimately she does not care.

It is one voice with many faces

that daily flies her along air

waves, dreams and dreaming places.



About divilthebit

Husband/father/musician (guitar, banjo) singer/songwriter/poet, storyteller, writer ( Irish speaker, B&B proprietor
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