This is an old shot of my grandmother, one of the best people of the world. She (and my grandfather) influenced my life greatly. After she passed away I wrote this poem remembering her.

Grammy Lo

I saw a small photo of my grandmother that was almost as old as she.
The tiny, black and white image emerged from among the gray cracks and streaks.
A young woman of about 20 stood by the door of a wooden building looking out at me.
She was in a racy black dress – almost up to her knees - with a little black hat on top of her black locks, tilted at a jaunty angle with feathers at the peaks.

I saw a teasing smile, a hand on her hip, and a light in her eyes that could guide ships through the fog.
And you could see that she thought of cars …and fun …and men – not of being my grandmother.
The camera strove to preserve that day, and even after all these years she was bursting out.
And I knew that there are old men who hadn’t needed a camera to see her – and they had all thought…”OH Brother!…”

“She’s dressed to the nines… has the cat’s pajamas.”
She was a fox …a hottie …My grandmother was Bootylicious!

And now, I see the image of my grandmother as we played cards.
Taught, translucent skin stretched over a roadmap of purple veins.
The hands that shook as they lay their discard,
While she chuckled and rubbed the spot to soothe small pains.

And she rose so slowly to journey across the room to get her shawl,
And she laughed, and joked that she “really should start to jog.”
And just then… for the briefest, micro-moment…I was privileged to see
The teasing smile, a hand on her hip, and a light in her eyes that could guide ships through the fog.


(5 years and 2825 days ago)

2 Comments

Grammy

jerostone says:

Profound, and moving. Thumps up, author!!

REPLY

McCormick says:

Very sweet, and a beautiful poem.

REPLY

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