My Grandmother's Eyes

Grandmother memory

My Grandmothers Eyes
Grandma Neace and others
By saeich48

It wasn't that cook stove,
that was always alit
It wasn't that house dress,
with tattered old slit

It wasn't that hair, that turned slowly gray
It wasn't the verses she always would say
It was the tilt of her head, no maybe not so
Maybe the bare feet, with one crooked toe

I'm sure it was her soft voice,
we found oh so sweet
When calling for dinner,
at the door we would meet

Her smile oh so tender,
loving and kind
Not a hint of her sadness
or overworked mind
She always came running,
when hearing our cries

But you always felt better,
when you looked in her eyes