Poetry Blogs (Grandmother)
Her slippers shuffle along
The carpet, with swirls of faded bronze.
Wrinkled hands worn by casino youth, waltz
Through the smell of hot leather,
Balancing china cups and saucers.
With eyes that sing the marble green
Of the Empress staircase, her face is the ghost
Of a lost love.
And I, with tiny toes that cannot yet tap
On the ballroom floor below,
Eat jam sandwiches
On my Grandmot...
Tuesday 3rd October 2017 2:21 pm
I walk from room to room
and try to catch a glimpse of you,
but all that I could see,
are muted shadows playing tag.
Sunlight catches visions
of days now stored in memory
and with your recent passing,
you climbed upon the misty crag.
The kitchen tap still leaks,
we've fixed that oft and time again;
your trusty stove still works,
those smells and tas...
Friday 25th March 2011 11:41 am