Poetry

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A WINTRY NIGHT WITH GRANDMA


If I’d had a tape recorder,
If I’d known it at the time
What a legacy she’d leave us;
But then, I was only nine.

It was on a wintry evening;
I was with her all alone.
Snow had fallen, we were stranded;
Grandma had no lights nor phone.

Listening to the crackling fire
Piercing silence like a knife,
Grandma told me of her childhood
And the hardships of her life.

How she rode the open wagon,
Braved the cold, the hunger, pain,
Having few of life’s possessions
That someday I would obtain.

How I wish I’d kept a diary,
Kept her story in my head.
I was, oh, so very young then
And forgot much that she said.

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