by Jaysen Elsky

Created on: April 19, 2008

Gram and the Porch Swing

We'd sit on the front porch
swing on blustery fall days
when the wind would steal
berries from branches.

She'd sing "a peach, a plumb,
a stick of chewing gum" or something
in Hugarian, her mother tongue. I'd
watch her grow young and go

back to the old country, with braids
in her heavy hair. A flowered dress
and apron flapping with her falling
over her mom's too-big-shoes.

She'd tickle my piggies as one
of them cries and she'd steal my nose
as we giggle enough to keep
the sky blue for one more day.

She'd say "Tatila, it's the most
important thing. To swing here and
be happy". And I was sure she was
right and that we could love

enough to support that swing better
than those old, rusty chains. And I
know in her pain and her going away
that she left me so many gifts

on those blustery days.

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