To my grandmother–

Love like miles, a heart like a child’s:

these are the gifts that my Granmama styles

in each smile, simile, similarly set

by the scenes of childhood, that future begets

in each new scene, however the place

you cast your bright light, your tower in time,

the gift still singing to the newest tune’s pace

since the tempo of hearts keep this steady rhyme:

the lub to each dub, the kiss to each cheek,

the story for each moment cast in perfect relief;

the lessons learned and the poems read,

you are the anchor, the rope, and the thread.