Widow's Thanksgiving

 
She listens close and hears her grandma sigh.¹
Sometimes memories close in
and the blackout shades on the leaded parlour windows
never slide up to let in the sun.

That Aubusson cannot be exposed
for then the light will fade the rose
and who, then, will see the pink curl
of petals as they unfurl?

Your Grandpapa bought me that
on his return from battlefields
better left in mind
and buried in sacred bits of country

like friends,
souls, journey on,
dust, left behind.
Don't tread here.
Don't stir the air.

Leave these things just like they stand
enshrined fondly where he loved to sit
and read his treasures.

Be happy for the chance
to go out and dance,
assured you'll suffer no harm
and fires, at home, only warm

Don't touch
Don't move
Don't cry
These things I love and am thankful for,
Are not for you to grieve.^2
 
 
1 Victorian Amethyst, by The_Fool ©2004
² Tears of Desire, by Miss Oatlash ©2004.