*Grandma*
A sip of wise words,
And a song of ginger tea,
Transpired a fluid bond,
Between my grandma and me.
She taught me ballads of devotion,
While she threaded my thoughts like macrames,
She cooked up my gullible mind
With thoughts of serene old-school days.
Her hands were magicians wand,
My heavy head in her languid lap.
As they snoozed my thoughts to a pause And sent me to a neverland nap.
She despised those fairies
With glitter, grace and gold.
Instead she worded sculptures
Of personas beautiful and bold.
Track of time without any tick-tocks,
She kept everyone in check,
A lady who loved organizing,
Was always found admiring my wreck.
A stick in hand, not for support but respect,
A hand on a shoulder, not for weakness but support,
A humourless laughter, not a strength but a weekness,
About her hidden strengths, she'd never goad.
Kite of a kind, laying low in the high sky,
Bud of a kind, blooming sharp hues,
Stone of a kind, needing only one for everlasting pillar,
Sponge of a kind, soaking up all the rues.
__________________
A/N
I don't know what made me write this poem, but the idea just came to me and i could not sit still until i finished it.
Tell me your views on it!
#Day1complete
Lovelove!
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