Of Hot Kettles and Old Books

Here’s a short piece. The poem focuses on a grandmother woven together from memories of my two grandmother’s, both amazing, wonderful women. I miss them.


Her books line the shelf
like old soldiers, leaning on each other,
on large candles, and a bookend
shaped like Winston Churchill,
it’s forehead cracked when dropped
years ago, some forgotten age.

She asks me to find the old hymnal,
heavy with her faith:
page 86, Amazing Grace.
Softly, we sing together until
the kettle’s shrill voice trumps ours.
Only then could I eat the cookie
left waiting for me near the stove
on a green napkin.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Final Trio.”


2 thoughts on “Of Hot Kettles and Old Books

Say something!! Please?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s