Notebook
I found a notebook in blowing trash
left by an elder moving away.
Did she not want to keep it, I asked
Won't fit, one room, is all she would say.
She was bidding farewell to her home
of sixty-five years: she was too old
to live among ghosts she said would roam
I saved book to see what would unfold.
Opening the book, enchantment poured:
watercolors on each wind-torn page.
children, garden blossoms fondly stored,
ladies, beads in hair: the Flapper Age!
I was enthralled. An artist she was!
Beside each drawing, a note left, too.
She was a treasure living near us
I feel ashamed that none of us knew.
We tend to equate old with past tense,
behind the times, so we hesitate.
Of distant years, and her added sense
tales she could tell if we would relate.
Yellow flowers I took in blue bowl,
and visited with her a long while
I said, to hear her tales was my goal,
and saw the beginning of her smile.
March 22, 2023
for "Writing Challenge--N Words"
by Constance La France
a First
Copyright © Ann Peck | Year Posted 2023
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