The Love of a Grandmother

“When I grow up I want to be…” A firefighter.
No- a veterinarian. Wait- a marine biologist.
Definitely a vegetarian.
If you ask a young child who they want to be
you’re likely to receive anything but
“I want to be my grandmother”.

Light, cheery laughter
glistening eyes of abalone sprinkled with emeralds
polishing of her newest flea market treasure
an appreciator of beauty in the uncanny places.

An artist, a poet
a divine singer of the Operas
a personal hairdresser
a lover of language and writer of books.

A wife, a mother
a teacher, a listener
a hand to hold in the parking lot
a spine-plucker after an unprecedented cactus encounter
an inspiration, a role-model
a grandmother.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem