A phone call comes at dawn
An anxious arrival, a hospital bed
The captivating sight
of one
smaller than imagined,
diapered with care, swaddled
A new face, smooth, plump, luminous
Eyes of her ancestors, unfocused, a golden world to meet,
so much yet to see
Her hand clutches mine, delicate, gladiolus pink
I speak in hushed tones, assurances of love
My heart soars,
future, hope
I am her grandmother
Life
Another day rising
and August shines
With beacon light of destiny,
glorious until
A phone call comes at dusk
An anxious arrival, a hospital bed
The shocking sight
of one
smaller than remembered,
diapered with care, fetal
A familiar face, changed, gaunt, mottled
Eyes like nimbus clouds, unfocused, they saw a bronze world,
soon to see no more
His hand clutches mine, trembling, with palms of violet
I speak in hushed tones, reassurances of love
My heart mourns,
memories, loss
I was his daughter
Death
Another cycle gone
and Autumn comes
With darkened sky of destiny,
as it always will
But I train my eyes
through the fog
to the inevitable sun
Because in time, the call will be mine
Tiphanie resides in a Seattle suburb with her husband, Tim, and their dog, Toshi. As an empty nester, she draws inspiration from her adult children (yes, their names also start with T!) and the arrival of her first grandchild. She completed her Certificate in Writing from the University of Washington.
