Grandmother's Hands
I will not forget,
my grandmother's gentle, loving, gnarled touch;
those hands that I loved so very much,
not a day spent with her I will regret.
We made chocolate cake,
our best dessert to make;
and we liked sad movies though we got upset,
those old, old hands would reach out for me;
her grasp a plea . . .
I have a memory dear,
of grandma holding me to her beating heart;
when death came and my sister had to depart,
stroking my hair until my tears would disappear.
And when grandpa died,
we hugged and cried;
I watched her hands grow more fragile each year,
like a twisted road map of her tangled life;
her death hit like a knife . . .
______________________
April 28, 2018
Poetry/Rhyme/Grandmother's Hands
Copyright Protected, ID 18- 1017-836-01
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym
Written for Jamie's Interesting Contest
sponsor, Jamie Pan, (Theme #5, Elements #2)
First Place
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