Grandma Sonnet

The rocking chair remains inside the room.

It lingers far beyond its years of use

when baby’s cries were lulled by mother’s croon

and little one were awed by Mother Goose.

The sturdy seat with springs of steel beneath

its oaken frame still has a creak that sings

and wobbly arms are married from tiny teeth

that ached with growing pains. Cologne still clings—

a mix of powdered talc and baby’s breath

which lures the whimsied chair to rock again.

Its incense stays, though age is put to death

and brings to mind how sweet the years have been

The grandma sweeps aside her strands of gray

And eases through another squeaky sway.

Night

Flowers snug their petals close while birds fluff out their down.

Fauna nestle mother earth for warmth upon her ground.

Dew collects on open leaves lit by a glistening moon

And slumber overtakes the night with its gentle tune.

Lake sprites spread their gossamer webs across the bay

And float the peaceful moonlight down a path to where I lay.

Softly scented zephyrs gently frolic to and fro

And owls blink their feathered lids over eyes that glow.