Poetry to Inspire



Early morning.
Grandchildren slept over.
Four year old granddaughter
in bed with me to “do our books”.
Mine—colour expression and poetry,
hers—coloured picture.

Books done.
Snuggle time.
Arm around her.
Soft face on my shoulder.
Quiet time.

Silence broken
“Granny tell me that word.”
“What word darling?”
“You know the one you call me sometimes.”

“You mean ‘precious’?”
“Yes, that one.”

She snuggles in closer.

“Maya, you are my precious girl
And I love you very much.”

Small arm hugs around my neck.
Precious feeling.
Precious moment.
Precious memory.
Precious girl.

Jean Kay


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