The Fourth Floor

Grandma lived on the fourth floor,

but you would never know it.

A jungle of 

plants adorning her terrace,

serenity would wash over us when we 

were small.

We could see the zoo from the terrace,

spy on the giraffes,

the smell would rise above on windy days.

That was before developers came in and bought the land.

I missed the zoo when it closed down,

the feeling I was in a far away place,

even though I was caged in the city.

Grandma had open arms,

and an open heart.

Her kitchen abundant with food,

cooked with love.

She was sunny,

and colorful like the beads she wore.

Her eyes blue as the ocean,

her strength deep,

but silent.

She had wisdom that was not taught in books,

but life. 

Grandma smiled with kindness as 

she offered casata ice cream,

three flavors living side by side,

in a box of wonder.

Her eyes would sparkle,

as we tasted the sweetness. 

She had endured war and loss,

pain unimaginable.

Yet, she found the way,

her days unfolding,

her days filled with simple gratitude ,

Her ways taught us,

about love and family,

about dignity,

and survival.

Grandma lived on the fourth floor,

you would never know it because

it was a world of it's own. 

Dedicated to my grandmother Dora. She was an amazing woman that survived the war. Her parents were murdered and she had to go on and struggle through the war with two small children. She was a survivor and

she had grace and dignity. She worked hard all her life and she was all about family and her children. I appreciate now her quiet strength, the older I get the more I understand. Please join us here, http://dversepoets.com/ where we share our thoughts and our hearts.