The sewing machine, idle, gathered dust,
so long forgotten in grandma's attic;
oh, sad it is just going to rust.
Can still hear grandma's voice so dramatic,
best storyteller in my family!
I wandered, with a candle, touching things . . .
(Grandpa's love letters - My Dear Amalie)
and on this girl's finger her wedding rings.
The war years seemed like only yesterday,
when grandma was telling me that story;
because, of her, I found my destiny . . .
storytelling is also my glory;
I would watch her face to learn the right spark.
"Read your eulogy, Gran, hope you were proud,
I remembered- stand tall with a voice loud."
(The candle sputtered, spent, and all was dark.)
_____________________________
April 14, 2018
Poetry/Rhyme/"I Remembered"
Copyright Protected, ID 18-1013-024-01
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, One, Nine, and Sixteen
sponsor, Viv Wigley
Sixth Place
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