No Witches
No witches reside in my story tonight
The Wind's not here to stir the chimes
He'd look out at me in fading light
Those days past, those wet summer nights
.
'Looks like rain' He'd smile and say
to me and Boxer caught up in play
'Come here Boxer. Good boy! Stay! '
I'd Grab his book and run away
'It aint got pictures' His smile still fixed
'Tell me the story gramps, I'm nearly six'
'Sit with Boxer my little tin lid.
Its about a witch and a little kid'
.
We sat till dark as he rocked his chair
His voice carried in the misty air
The wind would howl and the chime would sing
he'd tell me and Boxer the scariest things
.
When the rain got heavy we'd go inside
Me under blankets pretending to hide
And I couldn't stop crying the day he died
.
No wind or witches are guests tonight
His chair sits quietly in dim moonlight.
But when the wind blows the rain through the air
On those nights I swear, I hear Grandpa rocking in that chair.
'Sit with Boxer my little tin lid, it's about a witch and a little kid'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem