Poems by Anne Knight
JIGSAW ON THE FLOOR
Daughter and Granddaughter sit and kneel.
A puzzle in full swing, a piece there a piece here.
Those fingers, like lightning, fly across the floor.
Daughter quickly puts a piece in – then another one and on.
Granddaughter’s fingers swiftly move across the floor,
Her pieces in, the colours matched.
Nearly done, not quite.
They work the colours of the jigsaw
The blues, reds, yellows, greens.
‘Diner time,’ says Mother, sitting down for dinner.
Not quite done for the jigsaw’s left upon the floor.
Knives and forks fall on the floor, how they did laugh at Gran.
The jigsaw done but now it’s dark. Gran takes a photo of their picture
On the floor – finished. There it stays ‘til next day.
Feet tripping, could not see the jigsaw finished on the floor.
Gran and Mother put the broken pieces back.
The jigsaw on the floor.