Empty as a pauper’s mid-winter cupboard- once full to the brim- My chest- the place where love was abundant and prominent- has wilted now; like roadside weeds on a late Fall day- Winds carry your laugh far, far away, Along with it, is the silliness that always made me smile, even when I thought enough was enough- Oh my sweet child I’ll miss you; I do miss you this day and every day that will follow forever- As I watched your carriage roll quickly from sight- Tears filled my eyes and washed down my cheeks- A Grandma’s pain rushed over me; Flooded me with hurt- I’ll always feel the warmth of your small hand in mine, as we walked slowly down the backyard pathway- You asking question after question and me searching for the answers to satisfy- Oh I’m sure I’ll still sit in the porch swing, but somehow the song birds will no longer sound as sweet- While I swirl the settled chocolate in the bottom of the cup, I know our love; Our bond will always remain- I will never forget the magical twinkle in your innocent brown round eyes- Now take your brother’s hand, and tell him how much Grandma loves him too- Protect each other, For I am with you always
This one makes the soul ache, Lisa. They do grow up and they do go their own way, but like the ripples in a lake that move out from where the stone was tossed, given time those ripples find their way back to their center. One day there will be great-grandbabies for you to cuddle and nurture, so goes the circle of life. Beautiful and personally revealing poetry Lisa, done with the skill and perfection that we all have learned to expect from your pen.
Take care,
Sherry
The pain is palpable in your powerful poem of separation.It is heart and gut wrenching when they leave. We are left so empty knowing it's going to be awhile before we adjust to the changes. Superb poem Lisa!
Oh Lisa, as a grandparent myself, I can sense your total emptiness and longing for the warmth of the little ones and having them close by. I hope it is only a temporary separation for I know your huge heart will ached with the yearning to once more hold them again.
Your poignant pen brings poverty, physical and emotional, to painful light; well done! I've missed you, welcome back; you never cease to amaze me with the power of your poetry.
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Let this coming of age story of a boy named Bean take you back to a simple time. Set in a small southern town in the 1960's, encircled by a river and gleaming white cotton fields.
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Take care,
Sherry
Thanks for the emotional ride!!
Love Tinka
Eileen
Fee
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Burleson, Karen Lynn. :)
Your poignant pen brings poverty, physical and emotional, to painful light; well done! I've missed you, welcome back; you never cease to amaze me with the power of your poetry.
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.