Poemattic: Poetry and Art for the Soul

She barely smiled

but when she did

it was like she smiled

for all of us, all at once

She sequestered herself

away from the world outside

her humble home

soon after my grandfather died

I never met him

but she made him come alive to me

with stories of his exquisite chivalry

His portrait sat on the table

beside where Grandma sat

to fold the laundry and fine linen

Each fold she made

was purposeful

and perfectly aligned

her wrinkled hands

caressed the fabric

with great tenderness

a pillow case could not

possibly appreciate

I felt her love

one day

when she gently brushed

my hair for the first time

(I could remember)

and wrapped it in a bun.

She told extraordinary stories

about her childhood, my grandfather

and the things that according to her

every girl should know

about life in general.

She smoked cigars

which I found unreal