by now
you patented the smile on my lips,
and maybe even my hips.
A closet full of make-up,
learning colors
downstairs, Grandpa in the darkroom. (while the fan swayed its arms,
your orchid watched.)
Counting backwards, she makes room for us all--
unveils the evening: a scrabble board.
we learn colors
upstairs,
her chest full of scarves.
Careful careful hands held us
enveloped into a charmed dance
of the softest quiet beauty within my Grandmother's hands.
No comments:
Post a Comment