Angelus chimes drew us in
as we painted muddy trails
from door mats to the bathroom.
I wonder now,
if you lived just for these nuisances,
Wouldn’t you ever be bored
sweeping and swabbing,
scrubbing the stains off the floor?
and if I may recall, you never yelled!
What joy did you get to do all that
in spite of having your endless daily chores?
I wonder, as you're lying there on your bed,
if you hear those footsteps
tiptoeing your backdoor,
and your thoughts still cleaning
the muddy trails,
when you hear those angelus bells chime.
Author notes
It's about my Grandma
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