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Will you ever know how far your stories
sank inside my little girl heart
to remain and tug my flesh each time
I try to forget how painful
it will be to let you go?
I want to live out on the farm where cows
and chickens set the clock and aproned
mothers pump water from the creek
into the wooden bucket standing
beside the summer kitchen sink.
I understand the warmth of potbellied
fires, there's one out in the neighbours'
shop, on winter Sundays it gets fed
fallen silver birch that the cows
pushed down in the fall.
My kenning fails when I think of hunger,
the kind that lasts past lunch today
there is so much in my pantry
that starvation is a hollow word
and only felt in distant worlds.
I'll miss the presence of your warm arms
I've long outgrown those boundaries
that kept me tied in your kitchen
where I heard stories that sank
inside my little girl heart.
.
- COMMENTS
Bill Dadaalmost 16 years agoI also had a Nana and reading your poem it is almost like we had the same on. Very moving.
Anonymousabout 16 years agoYou have a beautiful old soul, champs ♥. I enjoyed the imagery in this. The hard work and a simple life sounds like luxuries to me. Marvelous work as always, thank you.
lorencinoabout 16 years agoA simply beautiful poem that struck deep into my heart and understanding.<br><br>
When I first met my Nona, long gone now, she was a vibrant 50 years old and I was three. She had came to live with us and be my mother while my mother went out to work. She taught me her language (she never learnt mine) and was the sounding board for all of my youthful enthusiasms. Mainly, she taught me the role of humour in loving relationships and nourished my self esteem in all of our little daily encounters.<br><br>
Your unfussy verse brought the warmth of those far off years vividly back to me. Thanks.
l8bloomover 16 years agoIt was my job to draw the well water each day and put the bucket by the sink ... thanks for calling up this old memory. Well done.
CoyoteCrushover 16 years agoThis is simple and beautiful. Your poetry always touches me to the core.
