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                           The wind is blowing cold tonight 

                             through chambers of my mind

                           Sadness creeps beneath the door

                                The mat not stopping the

                                       Chill of this kind

                       I suppose it's too many videos of those
  
                                    Abandoned places

                        The left behind dwellings and relics

                               Like photos of smiling faces

                     The holidays are over and the press to

                                      Get things done

                     Had busied my mind as I reach into the 

               Flattening mountains, the horizons of question

                                And sinking of the sun
 
     "What do I do now? The home is growing ever more silent."

          Grandmother comes to my mind and I hear her voice

       Words of wisdom, spoken so long ago. Bravery ever her choice.

        Her arthritic folded hands which had tended diligently over the years

         That had cooked for her family and pressed back the fears

 Tired blue eyes peaking almost blindly from behind spectacles of thick glass 
                             
            She said "I am the same girl I was, peaking out at my 
                       
                 world, my body is aging, but I am the same lass."
         

         Her children grew and moved away, the grandchildren came along

                             And in each life a brand new ray

                                       Of love and wonder, 

                   But as new was born, each year a plunder

                     To her own slight and shrinking frame.

               She said she was the same girl though, the very, very same.

    Grandma was in her sixties when I came to be. I never knew her young,

                                    She'd seemed so old to me.

    But had I seen the young girl The same girl she had been, was peaking 

               through those spectacles, the girl from way back when
  
                                    I didn't even see her.

                           For though she was growing blind

                              It was my heart that didn't see, 

                                That 'girl' hidden behind

            Disguised as an 'old' woman, within her aging flesh, 

                                         The young spirit 

                        Was hidden in earth's deceptive mesh

         Revealed that which I feel now, only time, it seems, allows

             The horrid rushing way of time, abandoned homes

      With aging, yellowed dusty books, And folded page of rhymes

                 Listen for the whispers of those joy filled busy times

          They are but a yesterday, a happy home with kids at play

  The fingerprints beneath the dust, of loving hand that toiled and fussed
 
    To soothe the strains of life away, "We'll read a chapter another day..."

   But then the book was tucked away, and children grew and ceased to play

                    And bright blue eyes grew dim to see,

                     But blinder still, those of young me.


    Oh Grandma! Now I understand. Life flashed to quick to take in hand

      And did you feel the cold wind blow, like what I feel, did you then know?

           Cold in somber Chambers, blowing through your heart? 

     Were you able to still the chilling flow once ever it did start?
   
           Creeping in beneath the door as children went away?

   That door that once ever opening when kids came in and out from play.

     You raised eight, grandma, as I, but your path lead you through more

             Sore poverty and horrors through Great Depression bore

          I'm not as brave as you Grandma, my selfishness is showing

           For oh my heart is aching as the rush of time keeps flowing

              I peek through misty spectacles, all my colors fading.

                         
           "As sight of bright light slips away, and into somber shading

             Gift me with your bravery as my mountains fall to plains!"

                         The young girl cries to grandmother, 

                          Through greying, windowpanes.
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