When I met that old lady
and studied her face,
I found things so precious
I believed I'll never face.
A person into 'us' and not much into 'I's',
a presence so alive, yet close to demise.
A mind that runs, with the agility of a hare.
Like a landscape of snow,
a head full of silver hair.
A pallor of wisdom, polished over the years,
a welcoming glance, a pair of patient ears.
If you wear a mask, what's inside, she knows.
She's the medicine to sorrow, with a soul sniffing nose.
She tells in a calm voice
how circumstances hurt her with lashes.
The wrinkled face with a bright smile
has no tears on its eyelashes.
She sings a lullaby through
sunken cheeks to
the animals on the farm.
An array of cows, ducks and chicks, too.
Her shaky voice squeaks,
through quivering lips.
"Don't be afraid, just do what it takes,
have courage and take giant leaps."
Has compassion and contentment.
Never wishes for a lot.
I like to call her grandmother
although she is not.
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This one is rather different from my other works, as here, I have tried using pairs of two different words with different meanings, but a similar pronunciation, or the same word used differently in different sentences, to create rhyming sequences. (Yep, I just said the word 'different' 6 times.)
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Impersonating Thoughts
Poetry"If the mind is a tree, poems are windfalls." Just a bunch of visions, daydreams, outbursts, opinions and thoughts squished together in a book of diverse poetry. #9 in poetry - 04.05.2016
