I’m pretty busy ghostwriting this week, so I thought I’d share something a bit out of the ordinary: a poem I wrote last summer. I usually put poems aside so I can come back to them much later and decide if they’re any good. I like this one. I hope you will too.
If my grandmother had written poetry
Her poems would have been soft but firm, perfect pillows,
With slightly sorrowful content
and the craft of one who loves without fear.
She would have read them aloud in her gentle alto voice,
and her mild Warsaw accent.
If my grandmother had written poetry,
Her poems would be in English or Yiddish or French, but
You would have understood them anyway.
My grandmother’s poems would have been all for you,
Not to express herself.
Poetry to soothe, to pacify, to create wonder.
Her poems would have made you smile, but the second time you read them, you would want to weep.
Can we read some of her poetry?
Óops! I had some CBD!