White trim yellow Victorian farm house
hardwood floors and banister railed stairs
Loved the evening summer sunsets there
I would go upstairs and sit with grandma
her hands were always so cold and frail
evening breeze would blow the sheer curtains
we'd watch them float slowly like a feather
coming to rest along side the window.
I recall the old antique furniture
terry cloth bedspread and the smell of cedar
the old windup clock, that tic toc'd
I could always hear her clock
Her personality was what she carried through life
those material amoire', mirrors and dressers
they were her friends part of her
I always felt that way
when we sat and I held her cold hand
tangerine sunset out her window
and we'd watch the curtain
float like a feather.
Author notes
Prompt: grandma's hands
In a list
A contest entry
- . by Aurora Ceres.
700 points, ended November 1, 2007, 75 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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You bring memories to live in this one HH as you bring your readers along with you on this journey you have painted. The words fuel the artwork supporting each to perfection. A good use of repetition as it linger in the mind and imprints the image as gently as the breeze of the sheer curtain. I found this to be a haunting poem
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Precious Memories!
How special to hear of a grandsons' love for his grandmother, and all the things he remembered that made her unique and special.Her furnishings, Victorian house, but the bond between Grandma and her grandson, and him not forgetting those cold hands and sitting with her..the sunsets you both enjoyed.What fond memories.And treasured moments you won't forget. I have some of the same although there were alot of us to share her time.Her cookies, shortbread, pancakes,and her Indian sweaters she knitted lovingly for all her grandchildren.They are so precious, and we
have them only so long...
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