The Sounds of Grandma's Death
The sounds of grandma's death came through the wall.
(Hush hush little brother be quiet hush)
Heart's hard breaking, then words easing the fall,
We heard the strong jolt of death's after-rush.
I, blind, remember scenes from that dark room.
Not grandma dead but the living's wet tears.
Being helpless, lying in that removed gloom.
Sharp and cold, the mem'ries still touch my ears.
I, sighted, watch grandma making dumplins.
Sit next to her as the front porch swing flies.
See her chase off sighs with her playful grins.
Smooth and warm, the mem'ries still touch my eyes.
Though I cannot lose the sobs death did raise,
I hold close those glimpses of sweeter days.
Harry W. Yeatts Jr.