CARRIER OF HEAVY LOADS
I watch her,
enduring and growing
frail ways
always
she was old and
and
as a child
I
touched her hair
(surely she was a witch,
disguised as someone
I thought I knew),that
one would have
had to lived
to be a hundred--
to touch the floor
when seated.
Enthralled with tales
of what being
GOOD and NICE
were books piled high
and often
my aching arms
carried her load.
Her face, antiqued with
age, she scowls
and through
gray and fiery eyes
cast disapproving
looks and (sighs)
her temples
of frozen ice
recall and then
relents, as called upon
she cowers behind
her knotty cane,
for protection.
I let her pass....
and scrape away
the thistledown...
>
FOR MY GRANDMOTHER
SARA W. CHRISTIANSEN
1900-1993
RACHEL E. HANNA
STANDING BY
AT HOME
TO GATHER TOGETHER
Email:
madpenpal@hotmail.com
I
watch
her,
