For My Grandmother (My Gifts to Keep)
Bryn Fregger

Tell me a story, parched paper and twine.
Of seeds in the window box, dreams
on the vine that grew through the ages,
then were,
then passed.

Save me the dew that clung to the blade,
opalesce jewel, till dawn dried to day.
The secrets of children,
sons, brothers now grown.
Of cup boards and pantries, the secrets of home.

Remember the color, for me, in his eyes.
A night that you danced,
a night that you cried.
The fragrance of clover and lemon and chive.

Forget not the fabric, the dresses,
their seams.
Forget not that blossoming basket of dreams.

And when,
at end,
that last breath sleeps.
Will these to me, my gifts to keep.

As always, your loving
granddaughter, Bryn

Copyright 1991, Bryn Fregger (Chernek). All rights reserved.

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