Weaving a web of memories with my grandmother.

Amidst the greatness felt by the millions of worthy souls rejoicing in heaven,
Amidst such greatness does this heart of the writer stand this instance,
Such a great feeling, feels like sinking into a sea of warm milk. So peaceful like!

Out here, listening to the cold breeze of the night whisper through the leaves of the trees,
Listening to the silent sound of my visible companion, the darkness.

Under the city of stars, alone, thinking in long slow thoughts,
Reminiscing the soft talk of my grandmother around the fire place, in the ages of my tender years,
The talk of the age of ogres and the children of the giants,
The talk of the men and women of the old, of men and women anointed with seven oils and named after the rainbow of light that fills the rainy skies!

During those nights, she would charm us into singing to the seven faces of the ageless gods,
The old gods, the nameless, faceless gods of the ancient ways.

The memories of a perfect childhood,
A childhood full of my grandmother’s tales,
Such memories unmans me so, and my eyes wet,
I miss such times!

I wish to relive them all, the times with my lovely grandmother, by the fireplace, at night.
But for tonight, staring at the gazing eyes in the skies,
I shall only weave my web of memories with my grandmother,
And I shall whisper a prayer to the nameless gods of the ancient ways to watch over my grandmother.

Comments

  1. Titus29 March 2012 at 02:47

    To my loved grandmas Julia and Monica, I miss the stories you told me when I was young (and you still do and they are as captivating as ever)

    ReplyDelete

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