Poetry By Willow Dancer





"On My Grandmas Knee"


I remember once when I was young
I crept up steep dark stairs,
a single naked light bulb
glowed harsh on silver hair.

She sat hunched in her rocking chair
and called me to her knee,
I still recall how strange it was
and that she frightened me.

She had a tense and knowing look
when she peered into my eyes,
the fear fell from me quickly
somehow she melted me like ice.

Oh the secrets that she whispered
for only I need know,
The precious words that grandma spoke
so very long ago.

I thought her to be a dreamer
of what she thought she'd seen,
she spoke in rhymes and fairy tales
of things that once had been.

She spoke about her father
and the stories that he'd told,
while sitting high upon his knee
when she wasn't very old.

As minutes ticked and turned to years
she lived her families ways,
Her wisdom grew each passing day
I saw that in her gaze.

Her summer days soon turned to fall
silver hair is flowing free,
the old ones have called her home
whispered secrets now lie with me.

So I'll sit high atop my rocking chair
a candle glowing low,
and call you to sit upon my knee
and whisper what I know.

Willow Dancer
10 - 16 - 02


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