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Grandma

Poetry By: Tango
Poetry


Life


Submitted:Oct 12, 2006    Reads: 140    Comments: 1    Likes: 0   


Grandma

Sitting in her favorite chair,
at the fires glowing embers,
she does stare.
Thinking of not so long ago,
when she was young, and sprightly,
and not all wrinkled, and slow.

Seeing herself in her first party dress,
on her way to a dance,
holding hands with the boy,
that she liked best.

Love, oh! The fire,
days, and nights of burning desire.
Next a walk down the aisle,
in a snow white gown,
her father on her arm,
wearing a smile.

Oh! The pain, then the joy,
her first born in her arms,
a beautiful baby boy.
Days of watching the children at play,
how fast they grow,
more, and more each day.
Now they are gone,
out in the world,
busy raising children of their own.

And so she looks down,
her memories corridor,
dreaming of the past,
and what has gone before.

Tango





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