(In memory of my late grandmother - I am wearing the blue sweater she had given)
I cannot possibly describe exactly what it is -
Turquoise, azure, lapis or cerulean.
To me, it was beautiful, a simple blue sweater
That my grandmother had given.
After all these years, I can still feel her warmth
In those cosy, lovely, ragged out woolen yarns;
Wrapped me against cold, warm although old,
And nice as she used to be; I wish I could hold
Her once more - I lament in vain.
But that blue sweater consoles me; the one -
That my grandmother had given.
Now I'd like to take
A few more of your moments
Tell me if you've liked
Through votes and comments
YOU ARE READING
Interludes
PoetryHighest ranking - #7 in sonnet. Musings that escape, in myriad, untouched by mundane grime Cascade onward, whatever space or time. Interludes of such mortal mind Forge a rippling river of rhythm and rhyme, Words etched by the shades of dark, puffe...
