The Silent Cry Poetry Collection

I'n Not Deaf

I’m not Deaf

Sitting huddled in our worn armchair,

Trying to listen with short white hair.

Watching our mouths open and close,

But can she hear us? Only Grandma knows.

Then Grandma begins to speak,

In a voice aged and meek.

She repeats what has just been said,

Our lips she has not read.

Granddad rolls his eyes,

Grandma didn’t hear us, what a surprise.

“I’m not deaf!” she says,

Just like all the other days.

Once again conversation starts,

I swear with my hand on heart,

She’ll say “I’m not deaf!” three  times more,

Just like last week and the one before.

Just as Mum comes through the door,

“I’m not deaf!” will have been said times four.

Mum sits down with a cup of tea,

Trying to talk to Grandma I see.

An opinion is stated,

And starts to be debated.

Then Grandma pipes up again,

Repeating the conversation, oh the pain.

Mum and Granddad once more point out,

But “I’m not deaf!” Grandma quietly shouts.

Every week more of the same,

Denial in the ageing game.

Every week on a Wednesday,

We wait and see what Grandma will say,

But I guarantee to you,

“I’m not deaf!” will ring out true.