This was a poem I wrote years ago, and which took third place in the Blue Mountain Arts annual poetry contest (big shout out to them, they are awesome!). I just thought I would share it with you all.
We would run about the block, gaping smiles, missing teeth, freckled faces, rosy cheeks, and you would come out to greet us on slow faltering feet, and would sit as we gathered around, your crown of white curls bobbing, as you told us of the days when you were young.
You told us of your time in Rome when you met the grey-haired Pope, and Germany and England during the war, and China, where the people were delighted by your fair eyes.
And you spun for us golden tales of the worlds that you have seen; of the Orient, and Europe, and long forgotten islands, and places of which we could only dream.
But my favorite story you told was not in a far away land, but over the scraggly mountains, just a few miles down the road, at the rocky, lonely beach
where your grandpa used to take you when you were just a girl with a gaping smile, missing teeth, a freckled face, and rosy cheeks. And as you picked the seashells off the shore he spun golden tales for you of worlds you had never seen; of the Orient, and Europe, and long forgotten islands, and places of which you could only dream; places where he had been, across the sea.
A native of the Los Angeles area, Carissa loves Jesus above all else. Her hobbies include poetry writing, betta fish keeping, excessive reading binges between semesters, hiking, and occasionally writi.. more..