Sway, sway
pinch the corner of your dress
with your middle finger and thumb as you
twirl, twirl, round and round,
Oh how your hair flies, your pearls drape down your
neck, like a chandelier pronouncing you,
introducing us to your crystallized grace.
He cannot help himself, his urge to squeeze
and hold you dear,
Dear you're his queen,
even at sixteen, with your June baby-on-the-way belly,
he watches as you swayed, and twirl, twirl,
you remove his fear, wash it away from his face
with your gentle fingers,
you introduce him to your grace,
later,
You cut your hair short, put away your dresses,
packed the pearls to the side--
until you dressed me, giggled as I tripped in your
satin gowns, shuffled clumsily in your high heels,
you tied ribbons to my hair, needing no brush,
twirling my hair through your fingers,
you tell me to sway, to twirl,
you place the pearls over my head,
I was never afraid.
Now your hair is gone, I can no longer
wear your dresses, or shine in your pearls,
but you are still a chandelier, existing
now more than ever.
Your grace never bowed to age, your eyes
are still glinting, shining and
he is scared,
I am scared,
we are all scared, Grandmother,
but you stand straight, removing clothes pins
from the line outside.
We watch you waltz with white linen,
and I see you before you disappear behind the sheets,
I see your silhouette twirling, your dress and your hair--
I see you,
unafraid, still swaying.
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 3:57 PM UTC
Sway, sway
pinch the corner of your dress
with your middle finger and thumb as you
twirl, twirl, round and round,
Oh how your hair flies, your pearls drape down your
neck, like a chandelier pronouncing you,
introducing us to your crystallized grace.
He cannot help himself, his urge to squeeze
and hold you dear,
Dear you're his queen,
even at sixteen, with your June baby-on-the-way belly,
he watches as you swayed, and twirl, twirl,
you remove his fear, wash it away from his face
with your gentle fingers,
you introduce him to your grace,
later,
You cut your hair short, put away your dresses,
packed the pearls to the side--
until you dressed me, giggled as I tripped in your
satin gowns, shuffled clumsily in your high heels,
you tied ribbons to my hair, needing no brush,
twirling my hair through your fingers,
you tell me to sway, to twirl,
you place the pearls over my head,
I was never afraid.
Now your hair is gone, I can no longer
wear your dresses, or shine in your pearls,
but you are still a chandelier, existing
now more than ever.
Your grace never bowed to age, your eyes
are still glinting, shining and
he is scared,
I am scared,
we are all scared, Grandmother,
but you stand straight, removing clothes pins
from the line outside.
We watch you waltz with white linen,
and I see you before you disappear behind the sheets,
I see your silhouette twirling, your dress and your hair--
I see you,
unafraid, still swaying.
My Grandmother was just diagnosed with terminal cancer.
