The pretty birds are singing merrily
Grandpa and Nana’s dog thumps towards me
I can hear the trees wave softly in the wind
And the clear water trickling into the pond
I step out of the car to pat Mitzi’s scruffy fur
When I hug Nana, I can feel her freshly washed clothes against my skin
Inside, I sit on her comfortable, expensive furniture
I feel more at home
I see all her extraordinary pieces of handmade pottery
And out the window, I study her beautiful gardens
So many flowers
So many colours
Something yummy is cooking in the kitchen
I can smell it,
Along with the thoroughly cleaned rooms
Lunchtime arrives and I can taste the delicious food in my mouth
But these days, I taste sadness
It’s only Grandpa. No more Mitzi. No more Nana.
- A Group for Memories of the Lost group list • next in list
A contest entry
- ANYTHING!!!PREWRITES!!! EVERYTHING!!! by hershey101.
600 points, ended November 12, 83 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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scoping
there's a puzzle's grab of lines once the additions become the delight's effect no matter the last glimmer of wonder, and then the hollowness of not having that last wower you've had before when the visit's put it together... oh where is it, you would search the floor if you could for the lost piece. and so this is a nice piece towards that.
you might consider it from your group's evuluations feeling your violin aromas to a judging in a contest with similar choiced inspiration, http://allpoetry.com/contest/2462033
consistency can stretch from tentative to tent to be known yet,
carolyn
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