grandmothers

grandmothers are

to be enjoyed in the quiet shade

of a rainy afternoon

surrounded by the memories

of vaguely familiar smiles

posing on walls

and peeking out

from behind

an army of

knick knacks .

There is a story

to be told

for everything here

including the few soft creases and tender lines across her forehead.

She is

a stubborn woman

and I admire her

unmoving nature

wistfully

I have

however

claimed her love of singing

if not her talent.

We sing together

and I savor the tugs

at my soul

that leave us glossy eyed

and sighing.

Love, anger, joy

it is all one passionate wave

and in this light

both of us are

just two women,

who have loved and have been loved,

with every murky detail

the phrase entails

and implies.

Her heart

is my heart

Her fate

is my fate

We are bound

by blood, by name , by our sex,

WE are just two women.