Visit to Grandma's
She listens for footsteps. . . at last they've arrived!
Through tumbles of laughter, each one gets a hug;
fresh cookies are ready—the little ones squeal,
and disarrayed bundles spill onto the rug.
Their warm recollections and up-to-date news
are shared in a flurry, the house is aglow.
Then, "Grandma, a story?" The tucking-in joys
bring tender reminders of years long ago.
The moments spin by and she's caught in the whirl;
but time's now an enemy, schedules are tight.
Soon kisses are wafting in back-and-forth sway,
surrounding the car till it fades from her sight.
She closes the door, slowly breathing the scents
of cookies and giggles that cling to the walls.
Then hollowness enters on little stone feet.
The armchair is waiting. The first teardrop falls.
© Copyright 2002 Laryalee Fraser
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