TO VANESSA
Whispers so soft, nearly inaudible, drift ever closer,
And bring me to a dream-like state, where I am more receptive;
Tiny angels seem to float all around, calling me gently,
Sweetly calling to me; and for a moment, I can hear them;
For one brief second, I can feel them; in that instance, between
Two worlds, neither in one, or the other, I am aware, and
I am comforted, and uplifted; I am chosen to know,
To feel, to remember one: face so petite and delicate,
That the finest china cannot compare; miniature eyes,
Sightless as yet; tiny hands, fingers faintly curled around mine;
Soft, shell-like ears, which will never hear me speak; and yet I say,
"Grandma's sweet girl, our precious darling, Mommy's little angel;”
So feather-light, she rests on my hand, skin soft as rose petals,
More fragile than butterfly wings; her dainty lungs now breathless.
Tears glisten on my cheeks, my throat closes, my heart seems to break
Inside me; yet, as I pray, without any words, without thought,
I feel a peace steal over my soul; a love, so beautiful,
So indescribable, surrounds me, and draws me back, to hear
Faintly, yet resounding deep in my heart, "Grandma, I love you;
I will wait for you, Grandma; till you come here, to play with me."
susan