A whit of a whisper
the words fluttered
soft on her tongue
of seven years
it is a barn grandma
not a stable.
First riding lesson
hands high horses
eye low learners
in the place of hay and tack.
Grandmother
And granddaughter
spin to mounts
on weekly wheels
the chariot hears
shouted dreams
murmured secrets.
In years of time
barn miles burn
the road to
lovesome confab
in memory monuments
a whirlwind warp of time
to a coach of her own
a solitary ride
to independence.
Noreen is a retired sign language interpreter who is now putting words in poetic form instead of having them fly off of her hands. Her work has appeared in Crosswinds Poetry Journal, The Last Stanza Poetry Journal and Grand Little Things.
