Standing on tiptoes, my fingers finally curl around the worn out, delicate spine.
I pull it down while dust rains from the top shelf.
Plopping on my mother's bed, my legs dangle over the edge.
It's raining outside, and I am lonely.
But I have the comfort of the old photo albums.
That old familiar spine creaks open, as I turn to my favorite page.
My Grandma's dazzling smile and kind eyes instantly brighten my rainy day.
She always knows how to do that.
There I am in her arms,
At the beach,
Picking raspberries in her garden.
Memories flood my mind.
Her soft voice tickles my ears.
Suddenly, I am not lonely anymore.
Once I am done, the album gets shoved back on the wooden top shelf.
Waiting.
And bursting with the people and smiles,
I need on those certain rainy days.
Beautfills Eliza <3
ReplyDeleteI love your description in your poem:) It's a really well-written poem! :)
ReplyDeletethis is great! you are such a great writer, Im jealous of your words. (;
ReplyDeleteThis poem is an excellent example of the sensations that people acquire on rainy days. You used outstanding imagery, and the scene of a rainy day that you created is realistic.
ReplyDelete-Francesca Mildred Gualano
Hey! I'm Andrew, and I will be your 'mentor'!
ReplyDelete"Picking raspberries in her garden.
Memories flood my mind.
Her soft voice tickles my ears."
Amazing lines. I love the imagery! :)