PATH TO GRANDMA’S HOUSE
All Rights Reserved © 1997 Luciano Saber

The path was narrow, long and bumpy
As it curved around the creek.
The birds were singing lullabies
Feeding their young, beak to beak.

The creek was cool and so refreshing
Stretching along the narrow trail
Whose hot, dirt surface kept on meshing
With my bare feet so hot and frail.

As I walked around the bend
My eyes opened wide each time,
For grandma’s house stood there so grand
Like a barricade to that beaten path of mine.

I always ran that final stretch.
I ran so fast without a trace
And yelled out with all my might
For grandma to walk outside
And wrap me in her warm embrace.

Her face was gentle and so kind,
With lines, like rivers, on each cheek.
Her eyes searched, for me to find,
Like rivers search for their creek.

We used to sit out on the porch swing
And she would knit her macramé.
We talked and laughed and then she’d sing
Until the night would end the day.

Sometimes I sit on my own porch swing
And reminisce about the way,
We talked and laughed and then I sing
Until the night turns into day.