Hannah

There is a name falls on my ear, Like an aria, so soft and clear. It rings with a melodious sound With vision of maiden quaintly gowned. I never saw my Grandma Hannah. She lived far away in Indiana. I knew her by picture on the wall, Demurely dressed in gown and shawl. My daddy spoke so fondly of her, I wanted so to know and love her. I was just ten the year she died. I remember how my daddy cried. At advanced age of eighty-seven, The angels took her up to heaven. In modern age it was deemed absurd. The name of Hannah was seldom heard. Like all things old, it was reborn And early on a frosty morn, A bundle fell like Heaven's manna And lo and behold, they named her Hannah. On my grandma's picture there's a smile. It's been there now since first the while I whispered that we had a Hannah Who would some day go to Indiana To find the stone that marks the place Where Hannah of the lovely face Was left so many years ago, Before this namesake she could know. This great, great, great granddaughter who bears her name, Has dark eyes very much the same As she in the picure on my wall. I've met my Hannah after all. A Rambling Poet's contest "Even a Name Can Be Poetic. took 6th