Grandmother You sit Wrapped in your Persian melon colored blanket Rock back and forth On that old rusty country porch Whom the neighbors across the street Once called Rusty Oak Spit tobacco South of melancholy Hair braids in pigtails Sit postured on the porch where we Often bow our heads together My head pressed downward Eyes red with mist You grab my chin and raise it to the sky Grandmother Those words spoken so softly Yet so stern I remember you said My bronze child Don’t you look at your life upside down You got every bit of courage in you To step upright and Poke your chest to the weary sky Take heart of your destiny Carry faith…
Grandmother
You sit
Wrapped in your Persian melon colored blanket
Rock back and forth
On that old rusty country porch
Whom the neighbors across the street
Once called
Rusty Oak
Spit tobacco
South of melancholy
Hair braids in pigtails
Sit postured on the porch where we
Often bow our heads together
My head pressed downward
Eyes red with mist
You grab my chin and raise it to the sky
Grandmother
Those words spoken so softly
Yet so stern
I remember you said
My bronze child
Don’t you look at your life upside down
You got every bit of courage in you
To step upright and
Poke your chest to the weary sky
Take heart of your destiny
Carry faith before your journey
Walk my grandson
Walk
— This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.
Excerpt from –
