Family tradition for M'lady Tai Chi Italy

storypoem

Family Tradition

 

I feel a hand touching my hair but when I look there’s no one there.

And then I settle down to rest again I felt my hair caressed.

I’ve no idea what it might be. It seems to mean no harm to me.

I’m wide awake I m not dreaming. The gentle moonlight softly beaming

through the window of my room, firmly dispels the twilight gloom Although there’s nothing I can see, some thing is caressing me.

It feels somehow familiar and I recall my Grandmama

Who used to sit beside my bed and very gently stroke my head.

when I was just a little lad. A memory both sweet and sad.

I have returned to my old home back to my roots no more to roam.

Perhaps her spirit lingers here and that is why I feel no fear.

I felt this old house calling me insistently and constantly.

Which finally decided me that this where I ought to be.

It has been in my family for two and one half centuries.

I think that very probably my eldest son will follow me.

Just as I followed my own Dad. If he did not it would be sad.

We are an ancient family part of the local history.

They say there is a prophecy  and I believe there may well be.

Which says we must come home to die. That it is true I can’t deny.

Nor can I guarantee its true I leave that question up to you.

 

Monday, 17 May 2010

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Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

I remember my grandmother sitting with me. Waiting for me to sleep and caressing my forehead. I did the same for my children. Your poem is beautiful. We are tattoos by great and sometime bad people in a life. The poem is outstanding. Thank you for your poetry.
Coyote