My Grandmother Vienna Fv
I was thirteen the first time I pinned my eyes on her
She smelled of Italy, with peppermint breath that clung sweet
each time she kissed me affectionately with love-caress
She told stories of Sir Lancelot and knights of the round table.
Some days her big brown eyes shone with happiness and other
days, when Bobby Solo played his golden trumpet, she would
cry for memory of her long lost love. Knitting needles clacked
as she softly spoke of her blessed mother.
"She once read a romance entitled, Vienna And Paris.
Mother fell in love with the story and decided if she had kids
she'd name them after those two lovers. "
I was fifteen when she returned to Italy to lay next to grandpa.
All I have left is an old super 8 film, and a chapter of my life with
her that I could never replace or ignore. Her wise antidotes got
me through a lifetime. What we share in common is our first
names and so much more. Thank you for reading.
March 1, 2019
Copyright © Mystic Rose Rose | Year Posted 2019
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