My Grandma owned a rocking chair,
Where she would rock me fast to sleep.
She'd pick me up when cranky I'm told,
And then rock, till ner a peep!
I can hear the words she last spoke to me,
That when my feet hit the floor.
'You will be too big to rock my dear,
And Grandma won't rock you anymore.'
I now have my Grandma's chair today,
It was willed for me to own.
I have rocked my children in my arms,
As Grandma did me long ago.
It creeks a bit as I rock I've noticed,
But it's music to my ears.
For I still remember Grandma's voice,
As she whispered prayers into my ears.
Her voice was soft, I remember now,
Of the love she professed for me.
I miss you Grandma very much,
And the love I shared with thee.
Rock-in chair, don't fail me now!
For there is more of me and you.
My children's feet don't yet hit the floor,
We've got much more rockin yet to do!
Hi Linda. Rock on thats all I can say. a really wonderful story in rhyme and I hope your chair keeps rocking for many a year to come. A very nice read thanks Regards Dave T. **10**
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A teacher of mine told me that scents, sounds, textures, sights and tastes could bring back some memories of before. A memory like that, being rocked to sleep by grandma, the sound of the chair against the floor, the creaking, it makes me smile...