The gloom rode in on the back of night
Then the strains of a zillion delicate fingers
Plucking a medley of a zillion strings
Smooched our eardrums
As we blithely snuggled on the floor
Warmly clothed and covered by grandma.
The liquid orchestra played on -
Grandma deftly conducting:
A basin here, a bowl there;
Fighting hard to contain
The tripping feet of the liquid dancers
Leaping and sliding all over the floor.
We drifted into our world of bliss,
Grandma's lamp sailing over our little frames
Denying obstinate mosquitoes a landing pad;
The cat hugged the far end of our feet.
Grandma flitted to ensure we weren't bedraggled;
Her logs of love smouldered to keep us cosy and warm.
A contest entry
- Unconditional Love... by marciakay81.
300 points, ended February 27, 2008, 11 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Oh. This is a nice little poem that you have going on in here.
I like story poems and stories from a childhood is even better because your memories are usually more colorful than adult ones. I felt all warm and fuzzy with you. You did a good job of expressing yourself here.
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very nice! i should go visit my grandma...this makes me realize i miss her.
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Very lovely and sentimental. I remember my own grandmother's home cold running water, an outhouse in the back and chamber pots in every bedroom. Good write. Happy trails
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Replete of the purest love. A remarkable write. I enjoyed it so very much. Good luck in the contest.
Kelli
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