My voice got a compliment
Last night,
Not for the first time.
Apparently I sound a lot like my
Well-to-do Southern grandmother,
Look like her,
Walk like her.
I don't have her natural
Eloquence in clothing.
She wore Pendleton jackets,
Silk scarves.
I wear jeans
And sneakers.
For dress-up,
Black sneakers.
She sewed,
My other grandma crocheted.
I do some of both.
But when I gaze in the mirror,
Anymore,
I see her looking back,
A patient smile,
Crush-crinkled eyes
That have watched a
Lot of water fall.
Her other granddaughters
Resemble different parentage.
Yet, they were her fulfillment,
Slender and tall,
The perfect children.
She'd had a rough life,
Wasn't proud of her roots,
Her harsh daddy and the
Thieves and traitors behind him.
Did she ignore me,
Because she couldn't bear
To look at herself?
Worse things than looking like one of your favorite relatives! I like being able to trace a bit of the family lineage by looking at my face!
ReplyDeleteOf course, the lines and wrinkles are there like a road map!
That's true. :) Thank you for stopping by and reading! It's always a joyous surprise for me when I see your name here.
ReplyDelete