Poem for Nan - WIP

I've built you a heaven from my memories.
Your malaprop'd "monocle"
is set on the grand oak table
(more fitted for a stately home
than a bungalow kitchen).
You'll need that,
for scouring the clues in the newspaper.
Yesterday's mystery of 7 across,
is finally revealed in the small print, inverted.

Set down on the table,
it makes ellipses of the grain
around its chrome casing,
and a study of it under its lens.
The refracted light from the kitchen-diner chandelier
is re-focussed in overlapping circles on the grain,
as it always was.

I've picked you a silk nightdress,
a fleece dressing gown,
and slippers that match neither.
The dressing gown fleece is soft against my cheek
and your arms feel like home.

Above the tiny telly
a picture smiles down.
A young woman in uniform,
sepia, with strange hair
and an air about her.
"Yes, that was me."
You'd smile and sigh.

I don't know if she'd like it here,
that quick, clever girl who could
fix an anti aircraft gun.

I can't see her doing a crossword,
or indulging a child too many sweets
while singing to Songs of Praise.
"The Old Rugged Cross" was your favourite.
She crushed on Tony Martin, and went to the cinema
with soldiers who weren't my Grandad.

Now free from your body,
soft and gentled by necessity;
are you the laughing eyed girl?
Is that your heaven?