#prizedpossession
I seen her there in that rocking chair
Grey hair flying everywhere
She was rocking as fast as could be
Letting out shrill squeaks of glee
Beneath the wrinkles you could still see
The child she so long ago use to be
In her eyes was a glint
Of a woman hell bent
On squeezing out every once of fun
She knew her time was almost done
But for today she hadn't a care
Let the people stare
I watched the grandkids climb onboard
As Grandma throttled up and the soared
For imagination was her most prized possession
She was leaving it to her grandkids, you could see it in their expression
This lesson from their wild haired grandma that they got
Would never ever be forgot
As that rocking chair flew back and fourth
Leaving the gravity of earth
Headed for an adventure out in the galaxy
Sharing Grandma's fantasy
Jun 9, 2016
Jun 9, 2016 at 12:11 PM UTC
My finger travels on strings
Like train on tracks
Sometimes like a local train
Stopping at every other fret
And sometimes like some express
Covering a whole lot of distance
Before pausing for a moment or two.
My fingers slide
From one string to another
From one fret to another
In turn creating symphonies
Which are sometimes an ethereal bliss
And sometimes an unfathomable chaos
Like creaky old wooden doors
On warm humid days
One hand keeps the strings chained
While the other sets them free
Setting into motion
An oxymoronic event
And myriad frequencies
Reinforce on each other
Forming melodies of utter finesse.
They say all your prized possessions
Leave behind scars
And so my fingertips carry calluses
From this wine hued acoustic creature
Signifying battle wounds
Which i'll always be proud of
Aren't you?
Jul 5, 2020
Jul 5, 2020 at 2:43 AM UTC