Grandmother Poem by Massamba dorsey

My Grandmother

My grandmother's voice
was like warm tea
on a cold morning

her hands
were soft like old cloth
full of history
and care

the kitchen smelled
like bread
and warm tea
sitting on the table

a clock ticked
in the background
and everything felt quiet
in a good way

her eyes
were like little lanterns
soft
and steady

her silence
was a soft, slow blanket
settling over the room

when I think of her now
I do not think of words first

I think of warmth
peace
and a room
that felt like prayer