Sarah
Sarah's nose wrinkled
with that inner laughter;
the kind that left
a crooked smirk
on her face.
Her hair was white,
Her eyes were blue
And she was dressed
All in lace
She sat in her beloved rocking chair
that creaked and creaked and creaked
Every time she sat in it
And in her hands were knitting needles and yarn
On the floor ready to attack her yarn at any moment
Was Tabby, Sarah's beloved cat
And beside her sat a letter from her grandson
Who lived out in Toronto
He was 10 and loved to write to his grandmother
And tell her everything that he was up to
The letters always made Sarah laugh
And brought a smirk
To her face
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