Granny Just Sittin'
A bag of bones in a splitted chaise,
A calico bonnet shades a map lined face,
Breezes blow cobwebs like silent wind chimes,
And she sings softly a hymn to occupy her mind.
Many’s the boll of cotton she picked,
Many’s the farm hand dinner fixed,
Sewed that dress that matches her bonnet,
With tiny little rosebuds scattered upon it.
Some days a tear falls when children play,
One pats her knee and skips away,
She buried three or four of her own,
Gave up her man, been long alone.
Where is she today - where does she go,
Midst the cobwebs of her memories so long ago,
Could I but untangle those precious years,
They would circle the globe with love, laughter, tears.
I dread the day we’ll say “goodbye,”
Still her love will never run dry,
Granny’ll be making biscuits and smiling again,
Strolling among roses with her recent last kin.
© By Norma (Twi1ite@sbcglobal.net)