Grandma's Place Poem by cheryl davis miller

I was spending the night at Grandma's place.
It was in the spring of the year.
Tucked snuggly beneath homemade quilts.
Memories bring my eyes, to tears.

I could smell coffie and bacon and eggs.
My Grandma was humming a song.
Then I heard a sound that made me think,
something was dreadfully wrong.

Whatever it was it shook the house,
all though in a very slight way.
It crossed over the porch; entered the door.
It was Uncle Bob's wife; Ella May.

Aunt Ella was a very tall woman,
with a voice that carried a long way.
Had flashing black eyes and when she spoke,
her head bobbed, \ and her body would sway.

Made quite the empression on this child.
I determined to stay in her good grace.
But beneath her loud ways was a heart of gold.
Just some memories of Grandma's place.

c.d.m.11-12-10