Brandy Cove
for my cousin
Frances
who lives in
Australia
I remember helping our nana
climb the steep slope
from the beach to the headland.
“It’s easy, nana,” I said. “Look!”
I leaped from tussock to tussock,
up the path, each patch of grass
a stepping stone leading me upwards.
She stood there, below me,
breathing hard, her left hand
held against her chest,
just beneath her heart.
“I’m catching my breath,”
she said, panting.
I ran up and down, then held out
my hand to help her.
It was so long ago.
Who now will hold out
her hand to help me
as I too age and grow
slow?
rogermoorepoet 
Delicate and yet something to hold onto…memories
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I feel very close to my grandparents just now … I guess it has something to do with the aging process.
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Well you have all this modern art stuff to learn from me yet Roger
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Too true. I have been doing black line drawings this evening. Very spooky.
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What a beautiful memory, Roger. Thank you for sharing it.
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A memory shared between my cousin Frances and me. I wrote it for her late last night. Sometimes poems, like dreams and visions, rise up from nowhere … hold them fast … they vanish so quickly. But you know that, Tanya.
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I do…
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Wonderful sentiments!
Dwight
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Oh.sweet memories-as daimonds who are spreaded on sahara desert.
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That is such a wonderful way of expressing your thought. Thank you. The moment still shines brightly in my mind.
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Yeah,true n sure .dear moor.
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