The Shawl
I touch the intricate, soft shawl lovingly
Recalling, gnarled hands moving delicately
O, such sublime patterns, Grandma creating
A shawl is draped upon a kitchen chair, waiting
What skill within those hands to crochet
A remembrance, a treasure, I keep today
Grandma, divine angel, from above watching
A shawl is draped upon a kitchen chair, waiting
Above me is an angel, heavenly
My muse, my reason for writing really
Write is for the word, her words so inspiring
A shawl is draped upon a kitchen chair, waiting
I touch the shawl, her treasured thing
She took a lonely girl and gave her wings
I lift it from it's honored place, gently kissing
A shawl is draped upon a kitchen chair, waiting
I caress it each day, as I am passing
Pink and soft, as the day of her dying
Will always keep it, forever, remembering
A shawl is draped upon a kitchen chair, waiting
_________________________
November 7, 2012
Poetry/Rhyme/The Shawl
Copyright Protected, ID 11-438-744-07
All Rights Reserved, 2012, Constance La France
|